Various Plots and Conspiracies
by sunny-historian
Summary: Oh, and general confusion... About the whole court during Kel's second year -- lots of Alanna, Daine and *gasp* a plot! Can this be me? Formerly Life of Tortall.
1. Alanna Returns

Chapter One

  
  


Neal slammed Kel's door.

"Door stays open, Page Nealan" said Kel in a fairly good imitation of Lord Wyldon. Sighing, Neal complied.

"You didn't even look up!" he exclaimed. "But anyway, you'll never guess who's here."

"You are" said Kel. "Interrupting my letter home."

"Funny! I mean in the palace. She hasn't been here since her... oh no, if I tell you that you'll guess!"

"Her? She? You can't mean... the King's Champion!"

"Ah, but I do, my sweet. The Lioness herself. And what's more, she went to see my father. And I heard them talking!"

"Neal, that's dishonest... She went to see your father? Is she all right?"

Neal hesitated. "They're old friends..." he said slowly. "And... and he was chief of the healers when she was a page... anyway Kel, don't you want to hear what they said?"

Kel wasn't satisfied, but she knew when to leave a point. "Of course."

"Well, I was just about to go in when I heard her talking. She was saying how long it'd been since she'd seen him. Then she asked about you. Father said you were managing fine. You had launched a one-man - sorry, one-girl! - crusade against bullies, but loads of us had helped you and they had been practically stamped out. She said brilliant and that was more than she'd ever done. Then she hugged him and he asked about George - her husband - and her children. They're all fine, and Thom, her oldest, is coming here after Midwinter! I bet you'll want to sponsor him, am I right?"

"If the Stump'll let me." Kel blushed.

"That's what Father said. She reckons if you sponsor Thom, the Stump won't be able to stop her seeing you."

"Then he won't let me sponsor him. I should know."

"You might be surprised. Shall I tell you what else happened?"

As he talked, he remembered. Squatting behind the armchair in his father's waiting room, he had heard the Lioness weeping.

'Baird, I can't go on. It was torture among the Bazhir, watching them as they joined with the Voice, too proud to ask how it went with Jonathan. We're both proud, too proud to make up. And I know that we both feel we're in the right. Both of us are happily married, but we still love. I didn't know that until we quarrelled. We've spent a whole year apart. I can't live any longer without him!'

'Alanna, my dear, do George and Myles know?'

'George knows only that I miss him. Myles... not even that.'

'Go to Myles. He knows you both better than I.'"

Neal stopped. He wished he hadn't told his friend, who was crying silently. She raised her face from the wet pillow to say; "Go on."

"Then I went. I don't know... It seemed like... I don't know. Like reading her soul. Anyway, I'd got cramp."

Kel giggled through her tears. "Trust you!"

The next day, a Sunday, Kel and Neal were passing Myles' classroom when they heard muffled sobs. They stopped, and looked at one another. Both had a pretty good idea of who it was. But, as they hesitated, the door opened a crack...

"Keladry of Mindelan!" hissed Alanna. "Good luck! I'm sorry!"

The door shut, and Kel and Neal were left. Suddenly Neal began to laugh.

"I'm sorry, Kel! I know she's your hero, but really! Just a little over-dramatic! I mean, she knows we're passing..."

"How? I mean, she's never even seen me! How does she know that I'm outside?"

"Perhaps Myles told her? Or maybe she was scrying? Anyway, however she does it, she knows you're outside. So she hisses, dramatically, even though a hiss carries almost as far as a shout, and what she hisses! Good luck...yes, that's okay, but Keladry of Mindelan!"

"Neal! Stop analysing her, I'm just delighted she spoke to me! Now can we go to the armoury?"

Alanna had tried not to listen to the pages talking about her, but she couldn't have helped hearing Neal's opinion of her message.

"What else could I have done?" she asked Myles.

"Talked normally. Not called her Keladry of Mindelan, because that sounds so formal it's funny. Not said anything at all. That would have been wisest."

"Since when have I been wise?" demanded Alanna, and was rewarded by her father's laugh. "I haven't obeyed Jonathan at all. I sent her anonymous gifts.. Three of them... a good knife, a spelled ointment to heal bruises and a saddle. Things a page needs. Things that would tell her someone wanted her to succeed. Maybe that's why I miss Jon so."

"Maybe it is. In any case you need to make up with him. There's a council meeting at the third bell this afternoon, and as King's Champion you're entitled to attend. Keep a low profile throughout the meeting, then when it ends be guided by him. He won't ignore you, but he'll make it very clear if you're still in disgrace."

"All right, I'll go. It's just after the second bell now, so that gives me nearly an hour to fill. Wish me luck, Myles." 

"Good luck, Alanna" said her father, and hugged her.

The third bell clanged. Alanna, who had been wandering the corridors around the council chamber for the last ten minutes, hurried inside. As she had supposed, she was the first there, but a moment later Sir Gareth the Younger of Naxen, the Prime Minister and a contemporary of hers and King Jonathans, hurried in.

"Alanna!" he cried, catching her up in an enthusiastic hug. "Where have you been? Jon'll be so pleased to see you!"

"Gary! I'm so pleased to see you! Are you still prime ministering? How are you?"

The door opened again, and Sir Lord Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak, the Knight Commander of the King's Own, entered with Numair Salmalín, the most powerful mage in Tortall, and Veralidaine Sarrasri, an expert wildmage. They were discussing spidrens with animation.

"And I say, they must be exterminated! They're totally out of... Alanna!"

"Raoul! Numair! Daine! It's so good to see you!"

"Alanna! Why have you stayed away for so long?"

They hugged. Alanna found that her face was wet with tears. Fighting with Jonathan lost her so much more than him! She chatted and laughed with her friends, telling Raoul about her Bazhir tribe, Numair about the spells she had written and Daine about her children Thom, Eleni and Kara, but she felt strangely remote from them. If only Jonathan would come!

The next time the door opened, it was Geoffrey of Meron. He, too, was delighted to find the Lioness in their midst... and hard on his heels came King Jonathan, with his queen, Thayet, in his arms. The King laid down his burden gently in one of the chairs at the head of the table.

"Why's it gone so quiet?" he asked. Somebody - either Numair or Gary - gave Alanna a push. She walked two steps forward and knelt at Jonathan's feet. Sorry Myles, I'm doing this my way. she thought. Might as well have a good wedge of humble pie while I'm about it.

"My lord" she said, her head bowed. "I am once again yours to command."

  
  


The silence lasted for a long moment. Finally Jonathan said huskily, 

"I'm sorry, Alanna."

"So am I, Jon. I was in the wrong. I broke my oath of fealty. Strip me of my knighthood. I deserve it. Please."

Jonathan raised her up and kissed her. "What would you do then, my lovely Lioness? Hide with the Bazhir for the rest of your days? Stay in Pirate's Swoop with George and your children? No, my dear. I need you as my Champion. I don't blame you for falling out with me. That's why we didn't marry, remember?"

Alanna smiled weakly and burst into tears. Thayet left her chair and walked unsteadily to soothe her friend. Jonathan blushed and stood on one leg. Numair and Daine started a loud discussion about meditation, joined thankfully by Raoul and Gary.

When order was restored and everyone sitting at the table, Alanna said, "Thayet, what's the matter?"

"I... er..."

"She fainted on the way here. She's been overdoing things." said Jonathan firmly. "Now can we get on with the meeting?"

Alanna winced at his tone and resolved to catch Thayet later. Then she started to listen to Tortall's problems.


	2. Prospects

Chapter Two

  
  


Kel swung herself off Peachblossom, whipped off his tack and rubbed him down at express speed. She was due to see Lord Wyldon at the sixth bell and she'd spent far too long at tilting practice. With nothing to show for it, either... at least, nothing if you didn't count bruises.

I may not be on probation anymore, she thought, but Joren and his crowd haven't lightened up one bit. I know it wasn't my fault I fell off after the race... but who'll believe me?

"I'll get Joren for knocking you off Peachblossom!" came a shout in her ear. Kel looked at Neal. He was too good at sneaking up on people! Well, one person would believe me, she amended ruefully. 

Shutting her door behind her, Kel threw herself on her bed with a sigh. She had just had a very unpleasant interview with Lord Wyldon, who - for some reason! - objected to her 'continual and unrepentant lateness'. Kel, while conceding the neat description, forbore to point out that it was he who kept telling her to practise tilting, archery and fencing in her free time and the only free time she could carve out was - what a surprise! - before meals, lessons or prayers. Anyway, Kel thought with a grin, he wouldn't have cause to complain for the next three weeks. If she were late, he'd given her the punishment work.

"How did it go?" asked Neal, dropping into the chair by her bed and - for once! - leaving the door open.

"Not too bad." said Kel. "Only three weeks in the armoury."

Neal whistled. "He hates you even more than me! I thought he might stop it this year. I mean, it's easy to see why he hates me. But you work the hardest of us all!"

"Mm. But Neal, you seem to forget that I'm a girl. I threaten his nice, neat little world. Anyway, how's your father? And is the Queen any better?"

"Oh, Father's fine. But the Queen is worse. Father can't figure out what's causing it. She's just weak. So weak that the smallest thing could kill her. Like getting a bit excited, or one of her children cutting a knee, or a spidren attack. So Father's keeping her very quiet, in bed, no public appearances, only the blandest occurrences being told, Jonathan and the children seeing her a lot but no loud voices. That sort of thing."

"That's awful! Do you think... no. Is there any other news?"

"Are you sure you want the news? I knew it! Well, Numair and... Daine... they're going to try and treat with the spidrens."

"With the spidrens? Are they crazy? They're mindless killers! They...they'd have their arms off soon as look at them! It's madness!"

"Your pronouns need a little work, my dear," drawled Neal in his best scholarly-elegant manner. "I thought you'd react like that. It's the Knight Commander of the King's Own's idea. I must say, it does seem rather a risk... but that's why Numair's involved. Daine's to talk to them, with her wild magic she'll do better than anyone else, and Numair's to blast them if it goes wrong. But, you'll be interested to hear, the pages are to provide extra protection. Under the command of the Stump, Hakim Fahrar of the King's Own and," he smiled proprietorially, "Sir Lady Alanna of Pirates Swoop."

  
  


Kel leapt off her bed with a whoop of joy.

"Wow! When do we start!?"

It was cold in the stableyard, especially before dawn. Kel saddled Peachblossom with expert efficiency and led him out, escaping the sly looks and punches that Joren's gang would mete out if she were there at the same time as them. The pages had been ordered at supper the night before to be ready to go at dawn; Kel had come out with half-an-hour to spare purely in order that she might be ready before Joren. Then, looking along towards the palace, she saw Alanna, the King's Champion, come out. Gasping, Kel ran back into the stable. From there, she tethered Peachblossom to a post and leant against the wall. She wasn't quite sure why she didn't want to meet the Lioness, only that she was scared. Then she remembered what Neal had said a couple of days ago, that Queen Thayet was an old friend of Alanna's. She also remembered the stories about Duke Roger of Conté, one of Alanna's old enemies. That he had placed image magic on the previous Queen, Lianne, which had worn her away with weakness. And then Kel knew that she had to talk to the Lioness.

  
  


She stepped out of the stable, untying Peachblossom. As she had hoped, Alanna greeted the page as she went past. It gave Kel the opening she needed.

"Um, sir.. Ma'am... your ladyship... um..."

Alanna turned around and grinned at her. "It'll be your problem in a few years!" she warned. "Try Alanna."

Kel blinked. She could never do that! "Um, could I talk to you? About... well..."

"The Queen," Alanna's grin had vanished and her eyes were hard as flint. "Duke Roger is dead, Keladry. I slew him myself," She suppressed a shudder, remembering their last duel. "I slew him... twice."

"But he rose once!" cried Kel eagerly. Alanna cut her off. 

"He was risen once. By... by a young sorcerer with more pride than self control..."

"Your brother," whispered Kel, her eyes like saucers. " Your brother Thom."

Alanna's heart twisted. She nodded, set her teeth and carried on. "But Thom is... dead, and few now have power like his. I have the same raw Gift, but nothing like his training. A knight is a warrior first and foremost, Keladry. Remember that always."

Kel nodded slowly, thinking. "But do you suspect foul play?"

Alanna managed to summon a small smile. "The King's Champion, my dear, always suspects foul play." She hurried off to saddle her Darkmoon.

  
  


Kel sighed and mounted Peachblossom. Her doubts were almost gone.

  
  


Alanna would have envied her her peace of mind. She was thinking about the council meeting the night before, at which Jonathan had raised the very same question. He had told them of his decision that the only palace mages powerful enough to get through the protective spells that he and Alanna had put on Thayet were himself and Alanna together and Numair Salmalín.

"Numair!" Alanna remembered exclaiming "That's absurd! He's one of my best friends! He's totally loyal to the crown!"

Jonathan had silenced her with a hand on hers. "Alanna, I remember saying exactly the same of Roger." He paused, saw eyes open wide and heads nod. "At the oasis after the Black City. I laughed at your suspicions then, and you were right. Can't you give mine a chance?"

"But... Numair..."

"But... Roger..."

Alanna had laughed sheepishly. "You win, Jon. All the same..."

"It might be a natural illness. It might be from a sorcerer we don't know. But it might just as well be Numair. Please, Alanna! Don't let us quarrel!"

"No, Jon. I'm your vassal - always. I'll never forget that again."

At dawn, the whole company of pages were assembled in the yard. Kel looked at the procession, pleased. Alanna and a tall Bazhir - "Hakim Fahrar" whispered Neal, noticing where her eyes were resting - were at the front, followed by Daine and Numair on a horse and pony swung about with equipment, then the fourth-year pages, thirds, seconds - including Kel and Neal - and last, the first-years looking very uncomfortable. The Stump was trotting up and down the ranks, looking for a horse out of line, a too-long stirrup or a loose saddle in the chattering hordes. Finally he nodded once and took his place at the head. 

"Pages," cried the Bazhir, raising his sword. " Move out!"

The two long ranks of pages began to ride, slowly out of the stableyard, slowly onto the road. Kel shivered a little with excitement. Neal leant back in his saddle, one elegantly lazy hand on the reins; but Kel saw through his show. He too was glad and a little nervous as they rode into the grey dawn.


	3. Spidren Trouble

Chapter Three

  
  


After almost three hours strenuous ride, the long procession arrived at the clearing where the week-long talks were to be held. Hakim Fahrar and the Stump took over, ordering the pages to surround the clearing. They were posted in pairs, back-to-back, one facing in to keep an eye on the spidrens involved in the peace talks and one facing out to check for more immortals sneaking up on them. Kel was facing outwards, whether by accident or design unable to see the Lady Knight. Luckily, she was paired with Merric, but - even better - Neal was close enough to grin at. She did so.

"The Stump isn't too bothered whether we get shot or not, is he?" whispered the irreverent one. "I mean, one of those bolts from a winged baboon would go straight through the pair. Probably hit him, too, if he goes on like that..." he added, eyeing Lord Wyldon's restless pacing up and down the ranks of pages. Apologising quickly, Kel reached past Seaver and elbowed Neal, hard. He yelped.

"Silence in the ranks!" bellowed the King's Champion, adding to Daine and Numair, "This remind you of anything?"

"Please... don't talk about it. That was such an awful time. I know I'm being too sensitive, but it was terrible. Almost as bad as... the bandits. Even the madness..." said Daine with a shudder. Numair kissed her tenderly. 

"Sh, magelet. Don't think about it. I'm sorry, it was horrid for you, and all my fault. I ought to have told you about my plans."

"Don't be silly," murmured Daine, burying her head in his shirt, "It wasn't you at all! Well, that was bad enough, but the real trouble was your old Graveyard Hag. Now she was a nightmare and a half!"

Alanna, smiling at the adoration on their faces, suddenly became aware of the pages watching the drama with immense interest. She blushed for her friends and kicked Daine. 

"Sorry to come between you at such a moment," she hissed, " but you came here with a serious job to do. And with fifty pages aged ten to fourteen." 

Daine jumped, blushing. "Thank you so much! But it was you that brought the subject up."

What Alanna would have said was lost, for at that moment the spidren delegation entered the clearing. Even the Stump couldn't quite repress the shudder that ran through every frame at the sight of them, and Seaver quivered like an aspen. Using her Yamani training to the full, Kel managed to stifle her overwhelming desire to cry out in fear and shock - and had the satisfaction of controlling herself better than Vinson. But any who did scream could easily be excused for by any standards spidrens were horrific. Six feet tall, black and furry, with human heads, their teeth were sharp and caked with dried blood, their faces were dirty and bloody, and underneath their bodies were the terrible spinnerets.

"Greetings!" Daine managed to give her voice the firmness and confidence that she lacked, as well as to hide her confused embarrassment. "I am Veralidaine Sarrasri, delegate from the Tortallan King."

"We know no king." That was the tallest spidren, a male, with blond hair and blue eyes. A Scanran, thought Daine - growing up in Galla so close to the Scanran border, she knew the fierce, lawless people as few in Tortall did. 

"That is what we are here to discuss," Daine couldn't communicate mentally with part-human immortals, but she did know - almost instinctively - what would go down well with them, "At this preliminary meeting, we invite you to make any requests or ask any questions that you feel must be answered before the talks really get underway." She stepped back slightly, to give Them the floor. As she had feared, it was the Scanran male who minced forward on his eight long, delicate legs.

"We are troubled," he began, rolling his 'r's slightly to give a smooth and menacing effect, "We came in good faith, expecting no fighting. As you see, we have only six. All are chosen only as delegates. Now we find ourselves surrounded by armed palace boys. There are the men who fought so bravely in our last... encounter. There is the woman who wiped out an entire tribe, five years ago. There is the tall mage, of whose power we have heard. Do you tell us still that you trust us?"

Daine bowed. She was starting to get the feel of this. "Honoured sirs, we are flattered by your estimate of our abilities; yet we are hurt that you so clearly mistrust us. These are the most important negotiations of the year. The pages are simply honouring that status. It is also an excellent and useful exercise for them in following debate. Your suspicions, honoured sirs, are utterly groundless. I hope this puts your minds at rest."

The spidrens conferred briefly and the Scanran spokesman began, again with an obviously well-prepared speech.

"We are satisfied. For now. But we also wish to know why it is that we have hitherto been so ruthlessly pursued and persecuted. Every time that we have stepped onto Tortallan soil we have gone in fear of our lives, even when our visit was for a purely peaceful purpose. Why is this, Veralidaine Sarrasri?"

"We had no intention of pursuing, or indeed of persecuting you, honoured delegates. Indeed, we would not harm you for the world, if you did not harm us. But many spidrens - I speak no disrespect to you, sirs, or those whom you represent; the spidrens who often attack are clearly rogue or even insane - have killed our livestock and carried off our families. With no means of distinguishing spidrens of peaceful and of warlike intent, we have been forced to slay all we see. " Daine decided to push her advantage: she sensed that the spidrens were confused and not, at that moment, hostile. "If these talks are successful, we would be happy to enter into an agreement with you. If, perhaps, we were to give you your own lands, and then all who leave them are presumed of hostile intent. Unless they leave for a declared, peaceful purpose. And of course," she continued swiftly, hearing mutters from the spidren ranks, "a similar restriction should be imposed upon us. That is, we should be unable to go to your lands, unless, as for you, for a declared and peaceful purpose. Then, if we saw unannounced representatives of the other species on our lands, we should be entitled to attack and pursue them; this would, of course, be purely in order to defend ourselves and our families. Please, do talk this proposition over before you answer me. Indeed, you need not answer today." 

Kel listened to the dance of manners for some time, although she never took her eyes off the woodland in front of her. Although she was very interested in the talks, her Yamani training had taken over and she managed to obey the orders of her overlord, the Stump. She knew that Neal, without the benefits which she had, would be utterly rapt in the negotiations, so she was trying to watch for him as well. Finally her patience was rewarded. She saw a furry spider-leg, twenty times as big as the legs of a house spider, stuck out from behind a tree. Kel took a deep breath. 

"At the rear!" she yelled. "At the rear!"

It was an utter muddle after that. Numair wheeled around and blasted the leg that Kel pointed out... the spidren delegates began denying all knowledge of the attack... the Stump and Hakim Fahrar came to the rear to investigate... Daine, abandoning the negotiations, sent out a probe. And screamed. 

Her scream broke the chaos. Everyone, even the Stump stopped what they were doing and stared at the weeping wildmage. Numair swore vehemently and covered the distance between himself and his lover in two long strides. He caught her up and sank down, holding her tenderly and brushing the tears from her face.

"What is it, my darling?" he asked.

"Spidrens... thirty, forty of them. And something else. It could sense me... it got my mind. It was... like nothing I've ever felt before. Totally evil, and yet familiar as something not evil... Magical and immortal, certainly... Numair!"

"Yes, my magelet?"

"I think... I'm almost sure... it was a dragon."


	4. Dragon!

Chapter Four

  
  


Kel looked at her friends, aghast. A rogue dragon? The murmuring grew to a cacophony of disclaimers, proofs and wonderment. Finally the Stump shouted above the babble:

"Shut up!" As they looked at him, he continued. "From what I have heard, dragons are neither on the side of the other immortals nor quick to make decisions, even in war. They also carefully preserve their neutrality. Miss Sarrasri," he didn't even bother to veil the sneer, "must be mistaken. As, I have also heard, she too frequently is." He smiled slightly and sadly shook his head. 

Neal was white with rage. Daine was scarlet and on her feet, shaking her fist and screaming. Numair was holding her tightly and doing some screaming himself. The Lioness was visibly restraining herself from twisting Wyldon's head off and nearly all the pages were yelling at him. Joren, Vinson and Zahir weren't indignant, of course: they were grinning and nodding. In the confusion, Zahir edged over to Kel and kicked her viciously. Vinson followed suit with a pinch. Kel hated them, but she ignored it for at that moment she hated the Stump more. She hated him for the cruel insults even though she didn't understand the sneer or the mockery. Under cover of the shouts, she whispered to Neal,

"What's he said that's so bad?"

"The Sarrasri... well, in Galla they name a child for their father. Only, er, um..."

"I do get you! Even though I'm a girl - is that what you're thinking?"

Neal ignored the explosion. "Well, only they are named after their mothers. Mind you, Daine's father is the hunt god Weiryn, so she could have changed it to Weirynsra when he acknowledged her, but it's still a nasty crack. And the Miss Sarrasri's him being prudish about her and Numair. And the other... you really haven't heard this?"

Kel shook her head. "I've hardly met Daine."

"Last year, oh... about a month before you came, she was really ill with something that affected her magic. She was just about convalescent when the King needed her to sort out some dispute between mice that meant that they were pulling down the stable block. Well, she was still fairly uncertain of her magic, and she didn't quite get what the mice were quarrelling about, with the result that all the mice decided that the King was no use at all and started pulling the whole palace down! But that wasn't her fault!"

"Too right it wasn't." Kel was horrified at the Stump. "He's not playing fair, raking up something she did last year. And when she was ill too! I don't wonder you're all angry. I am as well." To prove her point, she immediately joined the screaming pages. Only the horror and revulsion she now felt could have given her the impetus to break her Yamani training as she did now, Neal realised, and he looked on his friend with new respect.

"Pages!" yelled the Stump. "Quiet!"

All fell silent.

"That is better. Now, on my mark, fall in in ranks of ten. Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal IN!"

They fell. Then, they marched towards the bushes where Kel had noticed the spider-leg. Then, in accordance with the Stump's whispered directions, they surrounded it.

There was more than one stifled screech as they reached the back of the bush. For there, there were nearly forty spidrens engaged in feasting on something raw and bloody. But, strangely, they formed a rough circle around an empty space in the middle. 

"Oh, I've seen that before!" laughed Daine. "Numair, d'you know the charm to make it show itself?"

"Yes, I should be able to do it pretty quickly."

"Pages! Kill the spidrens. None must escape! But do not disturb Master Salmalín."

As the pages killed the spidrens, the air around Numair slowly turned grey, as a pearly shimmer flickered in and out of vision. Kel, like many of the pages, was spellbound. They watched as the shimmer solidified into a fully-visible... dragon.

There were shrieks and sighs. It was a handsome beast, this dragon, with blue-black scales and shining claws. Daine gasped, looking at Numair.

"Am I mad," she said slowly. "Or is it..."

"Diamondflame." said the mage. "It is."

Neal, seeing the confusion on Kel's face, told her: "Diamondflame was one of our allies at the end of the Immortals War. It was he that really turned the tide. Daine and Numair got quite friendly with him."

Daine suddenly cried, "Quiet! Diamondflame's trying to tell me something and I can't hear myself think!"

Why are you shocked, dragon-guardian? What is wrong?

These spidrens... are you on their side? thought Daine in reply.

I came here in search of Jewelclaw, who is. I transported myself to land on top of him, but he was gone. 

When did you arrive?

One minute past.

Mithros be thanked for that! It clears you! But... do you know if Jewelclaw was here nearly five minutes ago?

He was here two minutes ago.

"Praise Mithros!" cried Daine, repeating the conversation and adding: "Jewelclaw is really nasty. He wanted to kill Numair and I - me - when we were in the Dragonlands."

Lord Wyldon looked dubious. "Well... the spidrens are dead, all right. Miss Sarrasri, please rearrange the talks. The King should hear of this."

"And see the dragon." agreed the King's Champion. "Pages, prepare to leave."

"Why's she going along with the Stump?" Kel asked Neal as they saddled up. "I mean, she totally hates him! And this is hardly something she'd want to happen..."

"Well, she knows the Stump won't be satisfied until the dragon's cleared. She didn't really want these talks in the first place. And she wants Diamondflame to be cleared, and she knows that the King will believe him."

"All right, Neal. It is something she wants to happen. Hurry up! I'm finished and you've hardly cinched her saddle!"

At that moment, Daine emerged from the clearing quite close to them. Kel and Neal listened as she said to Numair and Alanna:

"Well, they were not happy about it, but I pointed out that although we did trust them and did hope that we would not have to believe the worst of them, the fact remained that forty spidrens were found, ready for war, within ten yards of the meeting place. So they backtracked and the upshot is, we're to meet them again, on the same neutral ground, in exactly two weeks time. To the hour, though I don't know why they bother. I mean, the day they're on time is the day you lose to a page!" 

"Good work rearranging, Daine! I should think Jon'll put you in charge of the diplomats when he hears this!" cried Alanna. Daine looked alarmed for a second, then relaxed and giggled. 

"Did I do all right, then? I answered them okay, but I think I set our terms out too soon. Don't you think I should have sort-of kept those as an ultimatum?"

"You were great, Daine. Really. I should think they'll agree now, and you know how sceptical I was to start with!"

"So was I. So were most of the palace, not least the King! But my magelet's proved them all wrong. Daine, you were marvellous." Numair kissed her lightly. Alanna noticed with amusement that they had actually listened to and remembered what she'd said before the negotiations had started. A rare occurrence indeed! A shiver went down her back as she remembered Jon's belief that Numair was weakening Thayet, and her friend's thin wan face on the pillow, the Queen too weak to even raise her hand to wave good-bye, the Queen who so recently had been so strong and healthy, the hope and inspiration of the Riders. What if it were true! She'd be betraying Numair, Daine, Lindhall Reed, even Kitten. Yet if she chose not to... No. She could never choose not to. The oath of Knighthood... and as King's Champion... she reminded herself. And if she sided with Numair, she would be betraying Jon, Thayet, George, Myles, as well as the young princes and princesses, and her own children. Shaking herself out of her mood: It isn't him!, she looked at the pages, slowly getting ready for the long ride back. Darkmoon was already saddled. Winking at Daine and Numair - Thayet... her mind reminded her with a stab of pain - she mounted and rode along the lines. In stentorian tones she pointed out all the things that the pages were doing wrong: a long stirrup there, a loose saddle there, a twisted bit there. Finally, when all the horses met her exacting standards, she rode to the front to join Hakim and Lord Wyldon, in front of Numair - she bit her lip to try to think of something, anything, else - and Daine. She nodded.

"Pages!" cried the Bazhir, drawing his sword. "Move OUT!"

They began to ride.

"Shades of this morning!" whispered the irrepressible Neal.


	5. The Trouble with Thayet

Chapter Five

  
  


It was long after nightfall when they got back to the palace and everyone, page, adult or horse, was totally exhausted. Lord Wyldon, Hakim Fahrar and the Lioness were the only riders who moved after Wyldon had called a halt. He and Lady Alanna took the dragon in to see the King, while the Bazhir began to instruct the slumped, half-asleep pages.

"Make sure that your tack is clean. There is no excuse for leaving it dirty or your horse uncomfortable. You must rub your mount down and put his blankets on. When I am satisfied that you have done all you need, you may go into the palace. Tread softly, do not risk waking anyone and go silently to bed. No talking, before or after you go in. Your master asks me to inform you that breakfast will be at the usual time tomorrow, but you will not wait for any pages who are late. There will be no morning lessons, either, for you tomorrow. The fighting arts will replace the thinking arts in the afternoon. You may begin."

Kel tumbled into bed, exhausted. The midnight watch was being cried outside her window as she fell asleep.

She woke as the sun began to stream in through her window. The fifth hour already, she thought. I deserve a bit more time, I rode for nearly seven hours yesterday and only had five hours sleep. I've got all morning free anyway. She yawned, turned over and snuggled down again.

She woke again half-an-hour later. Crown was pecking at her nose, obviously concerned that this lazy human would miss breakfast.

"That's a point, actually." said Kel aloud. "I'm starving!"

Ten minutes later she was washed, dressed and in the dining room. Merric was there, so was Cleon, although Neal was definitely still in bed. She knew he'd prefer actually starving to getting up in the morning! She hurried to sit with them, sliding onto the bench just in time for Wyldon's grace.

"We ask your blessing on our day and our meal, bright Mithros, kind Black God. In the face of change: a new year, new work, new boys, new treaties, new alliances..." his lip twisted slightly "...help the boys to keep to the standard that we always have had, even through the subversive influences that have leaked in."

Kel began to eat, ignoring the clear allusions with long habit and Yamani stoicity.

"He's still praying about you!" exclaimed Merric. "He let you come back, so why on earth can't he accept it?"

"What I don't understand is why I'm still 'change'. I mean, I changed things a year ago, though not nearly as much as he seems to think. I'm not still changing them!"

"Who can fathom the ways of the Stump?!" grinned Cleon. They had all adopted Neal's irreverent description of their lord and master.

Kel spent the morning washing her hair, writing to her family, practising with her glaive and doing pattern dances - a nice, restful morning, with just enough work involved that she didn't feel too guilty about all the more worthy things which she could be doing with her unexpected free time. The afternoon, she knew, would be horrible. She'd probably have to vault onto Peachblossom from a tree, or climb a twelve-foot pole, or run on Balor's Needle, or something totally awful and probably to do with heights... one way or another, the Stump's breakfast prayer boded ill for The Girl.

She was right. The very first task Wyldon set was planning and fighting an attack in groups. She was with a preoccupied Neal, Seaver and Tasen, a new boy who obviously didn't want anything to do with her. And it was she, of course, who was put in charge of planning their attack from the top of the curtain wall.

I am all right. she whispered to herself time and time again as she climbed. I am as stone. She bit back a gulp. Stone fell! I won't fall. I am perfectly safe. I am as a still lake, or a cat in the sun. I am safe. I am stone. By then, Kel had reached the top of the wall. She got out her paper and charcoal. Carefully, she looked out over the palace. So long as she didn't look down, she was all right...

"Mindelan! Are you finished yet?"

"No, my lord. I... I need a few more minutes."

"Hurry!"

Kel set to, biting her lip. She had to look down for the task... I am stone, she reminded herself, and taking a deep breath she Looked. She sketched the palace grounds and walls, marking on the sentry posts. Then, welcoming the employment for her brain and the respite from Looking, she began to think, drawing arrows for her force.

They won the attack and Kel resolved to practise heights more often. She realised once more that her tremendous fear would be the end of her as a page - or as a squire or a knight, if she by some amazing miracle survived the next two-and-a-half years - if she didn't conquer it now.

That evening, Kel was planning a program of dawn heights work for the next two weeks when Neal walked in. She could tell by his step that he had something of moment to relate.

"What's happened now?" she asked, amusedly resigned. But one look at her friend's face and she lost all her cheer. "It isn't... it can't be the Queen?"

"No. She's no better, and Father's no nearer to finding a cure, but she's still fighting. It's much, much worse."

"Is it the dragon?" asked Kel, racking her brains to come up with anything worse than that fear.

"He's been cleared, didn't you know? And the talks are going ahead in two weeks time. It'll last about two days this time, as it should have done before."

Neal's mention of the talks had suggested another piece of bad news. "What about Daine? Is it her?"

"No... she's all right, it's only my heart that's breaking every time I see her with that old man. And I have to be civil to him in magic class, too!"

"Neal, I swear, you're wasted here. Go and join a Player troupe!"

"Wait 'til you fall in love, young lady!"

"Neal... but what's the news?"

Instantly he was sober. "It's the Lioness. She's not speaking to anyone... she's not seeing anyone... not even Sir Myles, she's sent for the Baron not to come, even my father... she's shut herself off."

Kel felt dizzy. "Has she quarrelled with the King again?"

"No... I think she's trying desperately not to. That's just me, I don't know her that well... but that's what I think."

Sir Lady Alanna of Pirate's Swoop, formerly of Trebond and Olau, only lady of Fief Trebond, shaman and rider of the Bloody Hawk, King's Champion of Tortall, the one lady knight in the Eastern Lands, sometimes known as the Lioness for her shield, was troubled. She couldn't tolerate her suspicions any longer. 

Oh, she was used to suspecting people. But now she was caught in the middle, between her King... and her friend. And just to complicate things further, her King was also her friend and had been her lover; and the problem was about yet another friend. Alanna's heart still wept every time she thought of Thayet, so horribly weak, her health and beauty melting into the still, cold beauty of death. She knew what she needed to do.

It was hard to gather the courage. She felt a little guilty for arousing the concern of so many of her friends, but she had to do it. Everyone would forbid her, if they knew. She didn't intend them to know anything about it until it was far too late to stop her.

Yes, her duty was clear. But it was a hard duty and even her battle-scarred heart recoiled from causing so much grief and pain. She hardened it with the memory of Thayet's thin, wan face and tiny form, lost in the bed. She had chosen the image well. The Lady Knight would do anything to stop such suffering.


	6. Alanna's Decision

Sorry this took so long, peeps. And thanks to NoComment for reviewing and making me work for my living!

  
  


Alanna knelt before the fire, hands in the blaze. She looked through the flames, lips moving in a silent prayer. Images flashed before her eyes, each leaving an impression burned forever into her brain. Jonathan advanced to Numair, hugged him... a strange man laughed as he looked at the dying Queen... the same man, seated before a seeing-crystal in what was clearly a mage's workroom and equally clearly his... the man in Court, talking and laughing with the King and Queen... herself, crying... herself, holding Thayet by the hand... Thayet looked so well and strong! But why did she look so terribly weak... Duke Baird and his handsome, green-eyed son (What's his name? Oh yes, Nealan, of course. The oldest page in a century) healed a hazy figure on a bed... George in the Black God's temple, kneeling before the altar. She didn't want to see who lay there... the picture went, before she saw. And then there was just Alanna, kneeling before the dying embers with a tired mind that understood at last.

She knew what the gods had told her, but she didn't want to believe it. She said it aloud, trying to take it in.

"Numair is innocent. The culprit is the strange man, a mage, who is friendly with Jonathan and Thayet. I must... I must confront and defeat him, for only then can Thayet be healed. I will succeed in killing him and healing the Queen... but it will drain my Gift and ruin my own health and strength. The finest healers in the land will try to heal me, but none will succeed. I will die.

"But no! It grew hazy after the images of the man... then those events are uncertain! They are what will probably happen, but not even by the gods can it be clearly seen. For what I do will change the course of history afterwards. I am... what did Ali Mukhtab say? 'I am an instrument of the Balance. By my very presence I cause the scales to shift...'" She shook her head, ashamed of the tears in her eyes for her friend and mentor, and laughed. It was a hoarse bark, but it was a laugh. "That's what Ozorne was!" she muttered.

Kel was worried, because Neal was worried. And Neal was worried about the Lioness.

"I know she's using magic," he said. "A lot of magic. I can feel it... but why?"

"Perhaps she's trying to heal the Queen?" suggested Kel.

"No... she isn't in the Queen's rooms for one thing, and Father would have told me if she were, for another. No, it's something else. I just wish I knew why!"

"Curiosity killed the cat, Neal..."

"No, it's really getting on my nerves. All this power flying about. I might ask Father."

"Why on earth would he know?"

"If I ask, that'll start him wondering and eventually he'll give in and scry. Then he'll tell me what he finds out! I hope..."

"Oh well. Come on, you need to practise tilting!"

The Lioness' strange behaviour was the topic of choice at Neal's study group that night. By mutual consent they kept off the Queen's illness; Prince Roald was white and weepy. They knew he wouldn't be able to stand the mention of his mother, fighting desperately for her life with her pitifully meagre strength.

Kel was appalled to find herself yearning to comfort the Prince. She almost cried, watching him struggle to control a spasm of grief and worry.

"Is there a curse on us?" he cried suddenly, bitterly, after one such struggle when a throwaway gesture of Kel's had reminded him of Thayet. "Is the Queen never to be safe?"

"You mean your grandmother?"

"Yes. Queen Lianne weakened just like this! Is it another scheming mage?"

Neal forgot all that they had so carefully arranged. If his university training had taught him anything, it had taught him to take any opportunity for an argument! "He'd have little to gain. It's not like it was in your father's time, killing Lianne would have brought Roger much closer to the throne. But now... I mean, there are eight of you children! You, Kalasin, Gareth, George, Buriram, Liam, Lianne, Jasson... a mage would need to kill ten people to get anywhere near the throne. Unless he were acting for one of you..."

Cleon, Seaver, Merric, Kel, Esmond and Faleron stared at Neal. The prince thumped the table hard with his fist.

"No!" he cried. "I won't believe it! I won't!"

Kel had moved towards him before she realised what she was doing. "Easy..." she murmured. "Hush, now... he didn't mean that..."

The others looked at her, incredulous, scandalised and slightly amused. Kel blushed a deep and fiery red and hurriedly sat down. She hoped it was merely female instinct to comfort anyone in need of it... things could get very complicated if she were starting a crush on a friend!

It was midnight when Alanna unlocked her door at last. She shivered in the dark, but drew courage from the image of the mage laughing. She would do anything, anything at all, to bring this cold-blooded murderer to justice!

The Lioness crept out of the wing where her chambers were, wondering where to go. She needed to think and decide on her plan of action. Her rooms were spoilt for thought after the struggle of last night. It was too late to go into the city. The stables! Yes, they were the best place in the palace that fitted what she wanted.

Who could he be? she wondered, sitting in the blessedly-warm hayloft. And why is he trying to kill Thayet? If it were a bid for the throne, he'd have to kill nine other people, and that's just from the royal family because it's Maura of Dunlath next with her possible line and she couldn't be involved... if he were from Saren, why has he waited until now... if it were something to do with Jon... Suddenly, the answer came to her, trickled into her mind. Everything became crystal-clear. She felt as if she was floating in a tank... the world was sharply defined, totally real, but such a long way away.

"Of course." she said aloud. "It's Ozorne."

She knew that Ozorne was dead, of course, but she recognised his stamp on the matter. It wasn't a simple spell against Numair... it was a cunning plan to kill three birds with one stone. Not only that, but it would hurt Numair far more than if he were the butt of the spell. By weakening the Queen in such a way that nobody could cure her and Numair was the only suspect, he would crush the Queen and probably others of the royal family, destroy the King's trust in Numair and weaken Tortall for future conquest.

"A perfect theory, Alanna!" she congratulated herself. "Just one flaw: that Ozorne is dead, and any simulacra he may have had died with him. Anyway, he couldn't attach his Gift to a simulacrum. And, even if that hadn't been so, the man I saw was liked and trusted by the King and Queen as Ozorne or the seeming of Ozorne would not be. He looked nothing like Ozorne either!" She laughed quietly at her own stupidity. "Ozorne died a Stormwing, you idiot!"

Kel and Neal stood behind their chairs in Sir Myles' classroom. It was the day after Alanna's discovery, the day after that memorable study group, three days after - and this surprised Kel not a little, for so much had happened since then - the abortive peace talks with the spidrens.

Sir Myles came in. As usual, he was late. As usual, he was untidy. Unusually, he wore an expression of pain and anxiety.

"Sit down," he said, his voice lacking vitality, "and we will start the new topic: the Immortals War. Why did it begin? Yes, Esmond?"

"It was the old Emperor Ozorne, he let immortals loose into all the realms of the Eastern Lands, sir."

"Well, yes. He wanted to weaken them for future conquest. Why do you think he did it by degrees, not simply flooding the lands with the creatures at the start?"

The discussion went on. Kel's heart ached for the knight: he was trying so hard to take the lesson as usual and failing so dismally. When the discussion had erupted into a classroom-wide argument she took her chance. Neal knew all the gossip - he'd certainly know this. 

"Why?"

"Alanna." he replied. 

There was no need to say anything else. Kel mentally shook her fist at the Champion whom she so idolised. It was just too bad of her to cause all this pain!


	7. More Spells

Hmmm. This is going to be very very long. Stick with it if you like.

  
  


Ooops. Keep forgetting the disclaimers. Tamora Pierce has the characters. Not Emir Filariid, he's mine. The plot is also mine. Mine! Mine! Mine!

  
  


The lady in question was, at that moment, thinking just the same. Not only that, she was disappointed and upset. She had returned to her chamber and begun to scry, looking for any magic focussed on the dying Queen. The trouble was that every mage or healer in the palace, and even some healers, witches and sorcerers from the city, had a spell on her - whether for healing or for harm - and a mere scrying-spell couldn't distinguish between the two. There was another way...

Biting her lip, taking a deep breath and praying to all the gods she knew, the Lioness poured out all of herself - her mind, soul, Gift, her thoughts, awareness, her emotions, her essence, the stuff that made her Alanna - into the air of her chamber.

Alanna streamed through a thousand cracks and chinks in the walls, blown every which way. She was in every atom of air, every blood cell of every human or animal, every plant and pocket and jar...

"Oh, Goddess!" she cried, though her voice was just a whisper in the wind, "Keep me myself!"

Jon would be so much better at this, she thought. The Voice and the King and the wielder of the Dominion Jewel...he knows how to be One and Many...

She was thrust through doors and under windows, breathed by ten thousand mouths, disturbed by a hundred Gifts and a thousand thousand gusts of wind. But she could cope. She was still Alanna, with all that meant. Yet still it was the strangest thing she had ever done, in a lifetime filled with strange things. She could look from any molecule of her, or watch any on its journey. She could control them from the inside or the out; she could leave them, watch them or be them.

"Thank you, Great Lady." she murmured.

Molecules of the Lioness began to push the rest of the air aside, as if she were racing herself to get to the chamber where Thayet lay wasting away. As she turned sharply around a corner, she sensed another Gift doing the same - an ugly olive-green Gift, full of dark tones and whining screams. Alanna gathered all her own violet Gift together and probed the khaki magic. What she found there made her scream.

Every molecule of Alanna everywhere screamed and her scream echoed through the palace. Numair jumped to his feet, eyes searching for his friend, hand outstretched to blast whoever had made her scream like that. Daine, beside him, tried to soothe the clamour of a thousand palace animals screaming in sympathy inside her head. King Jonathan snatched a sword and began to wave it around his chamber - the Champion's job might be to defend the King, but he was ready to defend the Champion, with his life if necessary! Thayet too heard her friend's scream. She sat sharply up in bed, clawing at the air... and fell back. Her heart had stopped.

The Alanna in Thayet's chamber saw it happen, saw the Queen's serving women standing irresolutely around her friend's bed - her deathbed. She didn't know if what she needed to do could be done and she didn't really care; she just resolved to do it, whether or not it was possible. She began to chant the Call, summoning herself to the chamber.

Alanna felt herself streaming to Thayet's chamber. Atom by atom, violet by violet, bit by bit, she collected. At last she was all there, floating in the air, mind, Gift, soul, essence. Now for my body, then, she thought, and stretched her Gift, picturing her short, stocky body with the extraordinary violet eyes, the scars on her wrists and arms, hands, legs and face. Relics of battles fought bravely, she thought, and remembered Thayet saying it. She felt tears in her eyes and realised she had eyes. She was back in her body.

Ignoring the gasps and shrieks of the Queen's serving women, Alanna knelt at the side of Thayet's bed. She extended her Gift, straining it a little further to give her friend's heart a sharp jolt. Risky, yes, with Thayet's terribly weak state; but there was no other option to restore the Queen's life.

Alanna knew what she had to do next. In her terrible glimpse into the greenish Gift she had learnt all that she needed to know. When Thayet was breathing again she stumped out, cautioning the serving ladies to say nothing.

Alanna headed for the third floor, where the mages and academics had their rooms. As she passed that of Daine and Numair, the door opened and Numair came out.

"My dear, what's the matter? Why are you wearing your mail?"

"I'd better tell you."

They went into his room and sat down. Kitten climbed onto Alanna's lap as she began.

She told him everything, from the King's suspicion to her journey. "I'm looking for a Carthaki mage, trusted by the King and Queen, living in the palace. He has a nasty khaki sort of coloured Gift," she concluded, "and he's plotting to kill the Queen."

Numair went white. "That would be Emir Filariid. Emir Filariid! How did I not see that? I've been scrying night and day for who it is... and I miss Emir Filariid. He fits perfectly, he's an Adept of the Imperial University, he came over here to further his studies. Emperor Kaddar isn't too keen on him, so I've heard, but he's very charming and the King and Queen do like him.. But... did you find all that out just from probing his Gift?"

"No, of course not! I Saw, I thought, I probed. The probe was worst, but I got the least information from it!"

"Was that when you screamed?"

"Yes, it was terrifying. I was diffused all over the palace, so it must have been just as scary for you!"

Numair grinned. "What does that diffusion spell feel like?"

"It's hard to explain. When you start to do it, you're overwhelmed. Being in hundreds, thousands of places at once... it's scary. Awfully strange, but very exciting, and it takes lots of magic. That's my dilemma, you see. Because I've pretty well used up my Gift, what with that and restarting Thayet's heart, and if I use magic again it's touch and go whether I'll faint from overdoing things or totally finish my Gift off first. And whichever happens, I'll be in no fit state to tackle Emir Filariid."

"I'll do it, then! Forgive me, but my Gift's stronger anyway."

"Oh, I wasn't casting aspersions at your Gift. You are a black-robe mage, after all! But it's my destiny to do it. Maybe to die from it, but unless I'm totally out of luck to beat him and heal Thayet first. I told you what I Saw, didn't I?"

"Then wait awhile."

"I'd love to, but what will Emir Filariid be doing to Thayet while I'm resting?"

"Nothing you can't undo when you win. Lie down and get some sleep!"

Three hours later Alanna awoke, refreshed and ready to tackle the Carthaki mage. Her rest had restored her Gift almost to half strength and she was fairly confident about the coming battle 'with Gift and blood, with sword and spell'. But she couldn't shake off her visions in the fire. 

"Ah, well," she sighed. "The sooner I start, the sooner I'll know if it's true."

"Are you going?" Daine asked as she came into the room.

"I'm going, for better or worse. Wish me luck!"

"Of course. You'll be all right, Alanna. Goddess bless!"

Alanna paused in front of the door that read 'Emir Filariid'. She breathed deeply and knocked twice, hard.


	8. Battle!

Disclaimer. Filariid: mine. Notice dreadful name. 

Plot: mine. Such as it is. 

Spells: mine. But I hope they'd be possible with Tortallan magic.

Everything else: Ms Pierce's. I think.

  
  


Slowly, the door was opened. Alanna bit back a gasp as she looked at the opener - she could never get used to seeing creatures from visions in the flesh! Emir Filariid's face was dark and swarthy, his lips thin and tight. Olive-green flame glimmered around his strong, clenched hands.

"Well?" he snapped, muddy-green eyes flicking from her full mail to her sword and uncovered shield. "What is it, Lady Knight?"

"Adept Filariid, you hid your tracks absolutely beautifully. But not quite well enough, I'm afraid."

The mage's eyes widened enough to tell her that her shot had hit home, but he soon recovered himself. He shook his head and said quickly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really not? Oh, what a pity. I thought a man of your intelligence might spare me that line. Will I really have to tell you all about your plot to weaken the Queen? To kill her, the King's trust in Numair and the strength of Tortall in one spell? Yes, it was a brilliant plan, beautifully conceived and executed. But it's found out, now."

He screamed something in Old Thak - the first language of the Carthaki Empire - and threw khaki flames at her. She twisted her hand and the fire vanished. The unwritten truce broken, the Lioness drew her sword and attacked, executing a complex pass that snicked off his ear. He cried out and slapped her around the face. She cut off his other earlobe - a trick she'd learnt from her husband when he was the Rogue and she a squire - then reversed her blade to sever his head... except the sorcerer ducked, hurtled into his main chamber, grabbed a dagger and whipped it up her leg, leaving a shallow, bleeding gash. At that, the knight lost her temper. Advancing further into the chamber she hit low and hard, then threw a bolt of purple lightning as Filariid doubled over. Instantly olive flame appeared around him, a shield as if it were a reflex, and slowly he straightened. 

"You cheat!"

Alanna's fury had passed. Burning with shame, she privately agreed with the Carthaki but kept still and silent. She was waiting for Filariid's next move.

It soon came. He threw a spell at her, moving so quickly that even her lightning-fast reflexes couldn't save her. She was enveloped in burning blazebalm, the deadly jelly used in combat. The Champion's burning mouth moved as, with an effort, she lifted a burning hand to sketch a burning rune in the air. The jelly disappeared with a pop and reappeared around Emir Filariid, but he was ready. The burning stuff melted away and he emerged, less singed than Alanna but far more angry. Blazing with fury and bleeding heavily from the sides of his head, he stepped slightly further forward.

"Nobody gets the better of me!" he hissed, pointing at the Lioness. Instinctively she ducked as he threw fire - but a flame hit her right hand and numbed it. Cursing fluently, she swapped her sword to the left and swept it in the first stroke of the Crescent Moon. She would have had his arm if he hadn't slashed viciously along her numb arm and hand with his dagger. She lowered her sword, shocked at the extent of the wound. It twisted from the back of her hand along her forearm to her shoulder. She waited, rubbing feeling back into her numb fingers, wanting him to think her beaten.

Obviously he didn't. A spell hit her in the chest and quickly sprouted thorns to engulf her. With an impatient gesture she melted them and sent a swift return to Filariid. He cried out as invisible hands battered his head from side to side. A line of blood ran from his mouth and his eyes grew dull.

Under cover of her attack, Alanna hurled her sword at him. The weakness in her arm was terrifying and, even more frightening, her aim was very off - but it hit him, at least. The mage cried out loudly as the blade that should have pierced his heart buried itself deeply in his upper arm.

Alanna was on him like a flash, tugging the sword from the wound and putting it to his throat. But his feet were working all right - he kicked her in the stomach, winding her, and then slashed with his dagger at her legs and arms. When the knight recovered herself, she was bleeding from two dozen cuts, some shallow but most deep and serious. Not that she much noticed the pain, in the heat of battle - but she knew even more clearly that she'd have to bring this thing to a speedy close, for more of her lifeblood was ebbing away with each beat of her too-hasty heart.

Emir Filariid, thinking that she had given up, set the shaman's outer clothes on fire. Boiling mad, the Champion tore them off. She ignored the second burns to her hands and body as she advanced towards the coward. This Carthaki barbarian had broken the laws of chivalry, the love of which years in the field had not managed to extinguish from her heart.

"You fiend!" she cried. "You utter cowardly fiend!"

He ignored the first time that she had spoken during the fight - an unwise choice, as Alanna's friends could have told him. Instead, he pointed at her and drew himself back to fire...

The Lioness said a word that made the very air scream. All that was left of Emir Filariid was a greenish stone.

The Bazhir shaman was all used up. But there was no time to rest! She had to stop Filariid's spell. Leaving the main chamber, she went into a workroom where there were seeing-crystals scattered about. She looked for the olive-coloured crystal she had Seen in the fire. Ah, there it was! It was covered in runes etched into the glass - runes to cause slow death. And in it was the image of the Queen.

Alanna shuddered. This was no time for finesse, or finicking spells to remove the danger! This was a time for action. She reversed her sword and brought the hilt down with all the strength she had on the crystal, smiling as it shattered into a thousand pieces. Only then did she realise that her many deep wounds were still bleeding heavily and that she felt dangerously light-headed.

No time to rest, she reminded herself again, biting the inside of her cheek to wake herself up. Then she set out for Thayet's chamber.

Kneeling by the Queen's bed, Alanna reached for the fire of her Gift... and stopped, feeling sick. The flame was burning horribly, dangerously low. She nearly gave in to the circumstances and stopped to rest...

NO! Thayet's more important. It's my destiny. Maybe it's the one thing I'm in the world for. But I didn't come this far to stop! There's no time to rest!

The Lioness reached past her Gift and into the strong white cylinder of her life-force. Slowly, realising all the implications of what she was doing, she drew up a long strand of white and fed it into the amethyst flame, creating a bridge between the two. Instantly her Gift flared up and she went deep into Thayet.

There was the life-force, burning - terrifyingly - lower than the Lioness' own Gift had done. Alanna began to push at her friend's white pillar, building it up with her own life-force through her Gift. As she worked, Alanna's life ebbed away. Often she had to stop, to pant and recover her concentration. Often she had to convince herself again to carry on.

The King's Champion stopped, looking at the tall, strong white pillar of Thayet's life force and comparing it with her own, burning itself out with every nudge of her parasitic Gift. She left Thayet and laid a healing to build up the sick woman's wasted strength. Then she came out of her healing trance. Her eyes saw dimly and very vaguely, as if through a veil, but she saw the Queen sit up in bed, stretch and yawn.

"Alanna!" she cried. "Was... was it you?"

Alanna nodded, losing her strength to do even that. Then she passed out.


	9. Dying and Trying to Save

Chapter Nine

  
  


Lord Wyldon lifted his hands in prayer.

"We thank you, kind Mithros, merciful Mother, for sparing the life of our Queen. We ask that you would show mercy to your instrument, Lady Alanna," - Sir Alanna, thought Kel irritably - " of Pirates Swoop, who is sick and dying as a result of her selfless devotion to the Sovereign, that is, her healing of the Queen." He brought his hands down and a babble of talk ensued. Kel turned to Neal, eyes like plates.

"Dying? Neal, why..."

"Father told me to be careful it didn't get out. I mean, it's hardly the sort of thing you want all over the palace, is it? But the Stump's spoilt all that now. Honestly! You'd think he did it on purpose."

"But why didn't you tell me? You know I can keep a secret!"

"Kel, you ask me to tell you that your hero is dying? To tell you there's no hope? You want to know?"

"Yes, of course I want to know. I also want to know why, Neal!"

"Well, she used up almost all of her Gift finding out who it was who was murdering the Queen. Then she didn't even wait for it to restore itself - she went off and had a magical duel with that Carthaki mage. She won, but that really did almost drain her Gift, and it tired her out. And then - she couldn't wait any longer. Gifted babies know you can't do too much... but not the Lady Knight. She knew how to cure the Queen, she'd destroyed the spells that were weakening her and so she went straight on to get rid of their effects and heal Thayet. Well, the rest is mostly surmise" - 

"Surmise?"

"Basically, guesswork. Anyway, what Father and his healers think, based on her state, is that she didn't have enough Gift left to cure the Queen. So she stole some more - she took it from her own life force."

"Her life force? Neal! How? Why?"

"Oh, it can be done." His face was greyish and old. "It's not difficult, if you want it badly enough. There are three ways. You can transfer your Gift into your life force, which uses it up as if it were your Gift, only about three times as fast. That's the quickest way to set up, but it only works for a short burst of magic because it drains it so fast. Then there's the lengthy way of grabbing a handful of life force and sort-of stoking the fire of your Gift with it, then when it runs out you go back for more. It's good, because it doesn't use up either magic or life force very fast. But, it's terribly slow. Then there's the most dangerous way. You make a bridge between your Gift and your life force. You use up your Gift first, then as you call on your Gift what you get is your life force. It gives you plenty of power for a hard or long working and you don't have to keep on tweaking the setup, but when you finish your Gift goes on draining your life until you - nobody else can, not with ordinary healing - sever the bridge. Or your life force runs out."

"Goddess, Neal! That's awful!"

"Yes. And that's what Alanna did."

Kel went through her lessons on autopilot, blocking Faleron's staff and hitting the tilting target - dangerously close to the edge and a buffeting, closer than she had been for months - with all of her mind on the King's Champion. Would she survive? Neal had been gloomy about her prospects... but then, hadn't the knight survived things before? Hadn't she always kept going when men were fainting at her feet? Hadn't she been the finest squire in Tortall? Surely the Lady Knight would pull through!

Duke Baird was not so certain. Alanna was losing strength too fast in a vicious circle, for as soon as she gained enough strength to wake her Gift drained it and more. The only way to save her was to stoke up the Lady Knight's life force with his own Gift. And he didn't have enough.

Neal came tiptoeing into the chamber, looking at the woman in the bed.

"She looks so peaceful," he commented. "It's hard to think that she is the Lady Knight, lying there like that. It's hard to think she's dying, too."

"She is dying. But if you help me, she may have a chance."

"Why? What are you going to do? And what help do you need from me? I mean, all I'm trained to do is stop pain!"

"It's not your healing that I need, Neal."

"You mean... my Gift? What are you going to do for which you need all that power?" His eyes opened wide. "You're going to put your Gift into her life!"

"It may not work. Her life may reject my Gift: it has her strength of will even without any strength of body. If it doesn't work I'll try to reverse the bridge, though that's a last resort. For if it works, she'll lose her Gift forever... It probably won't. But if I'm to know whether it will or won't, I need an answer."

"What do you take me for? Of course! I'll do anything to give her a chance!"

They left the room and went into a small ante-chamber. Baird placed his hands on his son's arms and both sank into meditation.

Looking inside himself, Neal saw an emerald flame of his father's Gift come into his own fire. The flame flared up as Neal's dark-green magic burned lower. A fiery bridge, glittering two shades of green, came into being and the boy, looking along it, saw the duke's emerald flame at the other end. As the emerald rose higher, Neal's dark-green burned low. Finally the bridge snapped in the middle, leaving Neal with a thin flame which, even as he watched, flickered and died. He was left with only a trace of its fire. 

Coming out of his trance, Neal watched his father with barely concealed anxiety. Power left the duke's hands and gathered around Alanna's still body, then shivered as it melted inside. With an ominous snarling moan the magic fire reappeared and sped back to the healer, who looked up with an annoyed snort.

"A pretty clear rejection, wouldn't you say?"

Without waiting for an answer he plunged back into healing. Again the fire of magic gathered around Alanna like a cloak; again it was sucked inside as Duke Baird tried to reverse the bridge that was draining the knight's life.

But it didn't work. After an hour, Baird emerged again.

"Utterly resists me. Her Gift's too strong. Of course it's strong, what am I saying? Mine would be strong if it had been sucking my life away for three days. The poor, silly child! And what am I to say to George?"

"George has the Sight. He'll understand."

"I know, and that's what's so upsetting. I'd almost rather they stormed and raged. Then I'd feel injured, upset, because I did everything I could. But an understanding, grieving husband..." He drew in a long breath. "Or perhaps he won't understand. In which case I'll be a deaf healer."

"Father?"

"Didn't you know? George used to be the Rogue. If things weren't done right, he'd have your ears. It was the most efficient court for centuries."

Father and son sat in silence for a while, Neal realising afresh that nobody in Jonathan and Thayet's court was normal and Baird musing on the good times past. Neal broke the stillness:

"Is George coming soon?"

"On his way now. His mother too, with Myles."

"Now that is a strange relationship! Her adoptive father is married to her mother-in-law. Needs a lot of explanation, that one, until one stops thinking about incest..."

The duke gave a wan smile, all he could manage, and sobered immediately.

"How can you joke at a time like this, Neal?" he murmured.

"It's come back to Galgenhumor again, hasn't it, Father? You have to laugh, or else you cry." He sniffed slightly to prove it.

"Perhaps," said the healer, getting up and crossing to the bed where Alanna lay. "But at least one knows what one's about when one cries."


	10. Healing and History

Author's Note: I know Eleni (George's mother; Myles' wife) would be about seventy by now if I'd stuck to Tamora Pierce's aging, but I've departed from the chronology for her. She's now somewhere in the mid- to late fifties, having had George at the age of seventeen ("we marry as young as fifteen here in the city" - George, In The Hand of the Goddess) and so being twenty-four years older than Alanna, who's in the early thirties. (I may have mucked her age up too!). Sorry about this - my reasons will become apparent later! (Yes, I know it's shameless bait to make you wait for the next chapter, but what's the matter with shameless and obvious? ;)

  
  


Chapter Ten

  
  


"Please can you show us to the healers?" asked a tall woman - the men-at-arms hesitated to give her the title of 'lady' - whom they did not recognise, chestnut hair streaked with iron-grey and with the unmistakable accent of the Lower City, although her soft and pretty voice made it an asset rather than a liability. With her were two men, one tall and well-built, a few silver threads in his rich chestnut hair and bearing a remarkable likeness to the woman; the other short and plump with rumpled hose and a doublet that looked as if he had slept in it. He the men-at-arms recognised, but the other was a stranger. All were pale, their faces drawn as though they had worried and ridden through the night.

"Surely, my lady, my lords. Follow me."

All three followed the man-at-arms along corridors and up stairs. He left them outside a stout oak door.

Lady Eleni of Olau knocked and opened. Followed by her son and husband, she entered the chamber in which her stepdaughter and daughter-in-law lay.

"Myles! Eleni! George! I'm so glad to see you!" cried Duke Baird. "I only wish there were better news."

Their faces fell. "She's no better, then?" asked George, biting his lip.

"No better. In fact, she's weakening dangerously."

"Can't you do anything?"

"No. It's not an illness, it's her Gift draining her life force. Which it has been doing for nearly a week, so it has all her strength. And with that strength..." he shrugged and sighed a little "...it's rejecting my Gift. It's rejecting Neal's Gift, and all the Gifts of all my healers. It has her strength of will, even without any strength of body."

"May I?" asked Eleni, moving towards the high bed. Kneeling, she touched her daughter-in-law's sleeping face. Eleni's Gift left her hands as pale-blue fire, moving along the knight's body. The men stood together, watching, waiting, strong George, gentle Myles, worried Duke Baird. All waiting for one old city healing woman. All waiting for the inevitable verdict.

"I see..." she murmured, more to herself than to the others. "I see. Yes, yes, that fits. What about herself... all right. Yes..."

Eleni realised that she was waiting for somebody to ask what she was talking about. She gave herself a mental shake and silent chiding - you mustn't be so proud! - , then straightened and turned.

"I think I can see a way through."

If she had said that she saw pink and purple Carthaki elephants on the roof, they wouldn't have reacted as violently. Amused, the healer looked along the men, reading their emotions as clearly as if they were written in a scroll. Myles was so proud for his wife, confident of healing when all others had failed, and full of renewed hope for his daughter. George was struggling with relief so sharp it was painful, trying not to build up his feeble hopes too much, trying not to believe too much that his wife might be saved. And Baird, the poor Chief Healer, wrestling between his relief that his friend and patient might not die and his proprietorial pique that the miracle came, not from him, nor from his corps of healers, but from an old woman from the Lower City.

"Well?" he asked at last, less sharply than she had expected although more than her actions had merited. "What? I thought we had tried everything."

"Everything, yes, apart from the risky and downright dangerous. But there are risks which must be taken, dangers which must be faced. This, I think is one of them."

"Well?" asked Baird again.

"I will join with her." Simple words enough, yet all three faces fell from hope to astonished, disappointed incredulity. She raised a hand. "Wait! Hear me out. I told you it was folly... but if all else fails her, folly must be given a chance."

Kel and Neal sat in the history classroom, wondering whom they would have for the lesson. Sir Myles, as far as Neal the omniscient knew, remained closeted with his wife, with Baron George of Pirates' Swoop and with his unconscious daughter. None of the Mithran priests who taught the other subjects were equal to the task of teaching twenty lively second-years a subject about which they knew nothing. Tkaa the basilisk, who would have been an ideal choice, had gone to Carthak for a meeting (where he had been since the beginning of the year). So the pages wrangled and bet and clustered around Neal for news. He was holding court about the healers, enjoying the audience, when a light tenor voice spoke from the desk.

"I came to replace Sir Myles with his assertation that you were an excellent class. I am beginning to revise my estimate."

The boys and Kel looked at each other, puzzled. Only Neal laughed, and translated:

"Sit down, shut up and be good, he says."

"When I want you to speak, Nealan," and oh, the sarcasm in that smooth and musical voice! "I will invite you to do so. At the moment, I would rather you went to your places and listened." He stopped, and waited until all the pages were sitting quietly before he spoke again. 

"This is a lesson of history, not current affairs - although much that is interesting and will become the history of the future is now current. But for now I ask you to remember that history involves people and the Lady Knight who is news today and will be history tomorrow is a very dear friend to many in the palace.

"Enough! Today we will look at the abortive peace talks in Carthak in the last year of the reign of Emperor Ozorne, or the Emperor Mage. I myself, along with Dean Harailt of Aili, Sir Alanna of Pirate's Swoop - the King's Champion" he paused, blinked and swallowed, but carried on with only a slight catch in his voice "Duke Gareth of Naxen, Gareth the Younger of Naxen and a few others formed the Tortallen delegation. Delegations were also sent from Tusaine, Galla and Tyra. During the first few talks, things were going absolutely swimmingly. The swift healing of the Emperor's treasured birds by Veralidaine Sarrasri" - some dirty-minded boy giggled and was silenced with a freezing glare from the substitute teacher's dark eyes - " was of great service to the smooth running of the talks for that time, but soon things broke down in a spectacular fashion. Does anyone know which issues proved to be so contentious? Nobody else? All right, Nealan, go ahead."

"Um, sir..." Kel had never seen Neal lost for words before! "Perhaps if you used shorter words, some of the others might understand the question."

"You are pert, Nealan. Answer the question!"

"Fishing rights. And... and... oh! I knew this! Oh yes, the sudden vital clause introduced to the treaty. Saying that Kaddar, the heir, was to marry Princess Kalasin, then ten, or else no treaty."

"How does he remember all that?" whispered someone, unfriendlily. He learnt too late that Numair Salmalín had extremely sharp hearing.

"If you, Quinden, were to apply yourself to your studies with the enthusiasm which Nealan demonstrates, I am morally certain that you would soon be enabled to acquit yourself with equal, if not greater honour."

A babble of talk, of course, revolving about 'yer what!?' and 'he's a fine one to talk about morals!'

"SILENCE!" roared the mage and the shocked class were silent. They listened with growing interest as he detailed the breakdown of the talks and the omens betokening the imminent fall of the Carthaki Empire. Then Master Salmalín got onto the escape from Carthak of the Tortallen delegation and hit a quandrary. He decided to follow with such of his experience as was necessary.

"The Emperor, as we later learnt, had kidnapped Miss Sarrasri. But at that time, he was asserting that she had taken up with the slave underground and was encouraging a rebellion. I volunteered to return in search of her." His eyes swept the class, daring them to giggle or enquire further. A hand went up. Here we go, thought the mage, as he gestured to the hand's owner, one Merric of Hollyrose.

"Yes?"

"Didn't you say that you were carrying important information about the slave underground yourself? How did that get to Tortall?"

"It.. It was taken by Sir Alanna..." and with that flood of memory, the mage's iron self-control snapped. He buried his face in his hands and wept.


	11. Eleni

Chapter Eleven

  
  


Not even Quinden laughed. Frozen to their seats with embarrassment, only Neal of all the pages dared to whisper.

"I'll ask Master Oakbridge tomorrow, what is the etiquette when your teacher bursts into tears in the middle of a lesson. And if it makes any difference when said teacher is the most powerful mage in the country."

"You dare - Nealan! You just dare!"

What Neal would have replied is lost, for at that moment Numair Salmalín got to his feet. Tired he seemed and old, as if his grief weighed more than the world which Hercules had borne for so short a time.

"I apologise profusely, pages" he said, his very voice a shadow. "Now, if you have any more questions, please do not hesitate to ask them."

During the two or three questions that came before the hour bell, Numair recovered himself a little. But all through the day nobody gossipped about Alanna the Lioness - the tall mage's grief had touched them all.

Alanna's chamber was busy, thronged with healers and priests, reminding Myles irresistibly of that scene so many years ago when it was Jonathan on that bed and Alanna - or 'Alan' as she was known then - in charge. Now the roles were reversed -- it was Alanna dying and Jonathan preparing to take a last chance,.

Eleni walked in from the small connecting chamber, pale but composed, and the priests and under-healers left the room. Only Eleni remained. The woman knelt by the Lady Knight's head, placing her hands lightly upon the unconscious Champion's face. She sank into meditation as if it were a sea of violets, soft, enfolding calm. Looking deep inside herself, she lifted up the strong core of her Gift. Carefully she carried it, mental hands gentle, to her stepdaughter and inside: the trace of white fire left in life-drained Alanna flowed into the tall white pillar of Eleni's life-force.

  
  


The women joined, two lives, two memories, two personalities flowing into one. How different were the twain, now one! Oh Alanna, lucky knight! Value your friends, see what they have done for you!

Alanna was the weaker of the two after her draining, and Eleni tried to sort everything out before the woman strengthened. However, her task was made difficult by her awareness of Alanna's memories. Trying to wade through the eyebrow-raising revelations about her son as a friend, lover and husband - especially that! - was horribly hard, but the iron self-control of Myles' wife saved her. Quickly she divided the life force into two equal parts, stoking each with a handful of her Gift. The next task was harder and she had to wait until her Alanna-self was stronger. 

It's tiring being Two and One, she thought to the other half of Herself. Shall we separate? 

Yes, agreed the Alanna-part.

Together, they went through their memories, each taking their own. Each found that some were unforgettable, instantly recognisable: for both, holding their babies in their arms for the first time; for Eleni, feeling the raw power in twelve-year-old Page 'Alan' of Trebond; for Alanna, being adopted into the Bazhir Bloody Hawk and by Myles. Each found that some could have come from either, and they had to sort out whose was whose - for if, when the two were again separate, one had part of the other... they would be linked, with the whole-self link that no human body can bear for long.

After memories came soul and after soul, essence, life, Gift, mind, thoughts, emotions. When each life force was surrounded with the separate lives and minds of the two, each picked up their lives with light mental hands. Slowly they drew their hands back into their bodies. Then up, out of meditation they swam.

  
  


Standing outside the chamber, Myles, George, the King and Duke Baird had shuffled their feet and avoided each other's eyes. After ten forevers, they had given up and gone into the healing room. 

The fright they had got had nearly given Eleni four other patients. Because, but for the fact that one was on the bed and the other on the floor, the two women looked like twins. Although not voicing their suspicions, each had suspected the same: that they had grown too similar. That Eleni would be unable to break the link. For three hours they had watched the eerie pair, lying and kneeling so still, barely breathing. Then, with a sudden jolt, the women had looked their old selves - though Alanna's always-plain features had been softened a little and Eleni's slim figure had been slightly thickened. Not that any of the men noticed these trifling differences, the ways in which the two would now always look like sisters! For at that moment, Alanna opened her eyes, sat up, yawned and stretched.

"Hello, everyone! I'm so sleepy..."

"Sleep, Alanna," said Jonathan, crossing to her bed. "But first, thank you. I knew in those terrible days how Father must have felt so long ago. You didn't save only Thayet... you saved me as well."

"Isn't that my job, Jon?" murmured the King's Champion with a smile.

"When will you be up, Alanna?" asked Numair. He was standing over her, looking down with a face like the happy summer sun. On her other side sat Daine, as contented and happy as a cat who had stolen the cream.

"No more than a week away, I think," replied Alanna. "At least, I sincerely hope so. I do think Baird could make a bit of an effort and heal me a bit faster! The longer I lie here doing nothing, the longer it'll take me to get properly fit again. My muscles have turned to water! I'm sure I couldn't even lift my sword, even now!"

"Well, you won't be going away for a bit, anyway. I'm glad you'll be up in less than a fortnight. I can't tell you how glad I am! We are, I mean."

"Numair, what in Crooked God's name are you going on about?"

He looked pained. Daine stood up and crossed to him. "What am I talking about? My dear! I just wanted to tell you..." he looked fondly down at Daine "...that this lovely girl has at last consented to be my wife."

  
  


"Daine! Numair! Congratulations!" yelled Alanna joyfully. "And the wedding's in a fortnight?"

"You've got it! Daine said last week, when I asked her, that she would marry me at last. She said that I'd been pestering her for so long she thought I mustn't mind that she was too young, after all!" The hour bell clanged - the fourth bell. 

"Mithros, Mynoss and Shakith! I've got a class now!" exclaimed the most powerful mage in Tortall and galloped away.

Daine waited until the door had closed behind her lover before she leaned closer to her friend.

"Actually, that's not the only reason," she said softly. "Not my only reason, anyway..." Her hand slid from the knight's coverlet to rest meaningfully upon her stomach.

Alanna sat immediately bolt upright in bed - a proceeding utterly forbidden, of course, by the Chief Healer! - with a mixture of shock and glee. "Daine! You're barely more than eighteen! Really?"

"I'm fairly sure. But you're the first person I've told."

"Not even Numair?"

"Numair! Are you crazy? He won't know till long after we're married. I don't want to be fussed over, or it to be broadcast all over the palace!"

"A wise precaution... though aren't you just a little hard on him?"

"I'm not blaming him, but he's hardly adept at keeping a secret! Look at what happened in Carthak!"

"You're probably right. You know him better than I."

Conversation languished for a while after that, until Daine said thoughtfully,

"I hope Baird lets you come to the wedding!"

Alanna snorted. "That mouse of a healer! He won't, far too much excitement, but I wouldn't miss it for the world! Rest assured, my dear, whatever he says I shall be there. By the way, is it a secret that you're getting married?"

"Not at all, but don't let the other slip. Not to anyone!"

At that moment, Duke Baird walked in. 

"Hello, Daine!" he said. "Alanna, you need to rest."

"All right, sir," replied Alanna, unusually meek. "But you will let me go to Daine's wedding in two weeks, won't you!"

Challenged thus, the duke could hardly refuse. But what he could do, he did, to wit, chasing Daine out of the room and ordering Alanna to go to sleep. She smiled as she drifted off, conceding the small battle as just payment for the important one.


	12. Quarrel

Okay, I've rather skipped this for awhile, but here goes. 

1. Nothing belongs to me. Nothing. Rien. Nichts. Nada.

2. Thank you very much to my reviewers. Responses coming up...

Reava: thanks a lot for your reviews and the good advice (the fic's now changing its name more times than Royal Mail!), and there is some D/N fluff, as well as some more romance coming up - well, there's rather more angsty than fluffy romance, but don't despair!

Clarylissa: thank you, here you are!

No Comment: thanks awfully for the batch of really good, well-thought out and above all (!) Nice reviews. Hope the rest is up to standard. (I was rather keen on "not too bad... only three weeks in the armoury" myself!)

Thank you again to you all!

  
  


Chapter Twelve

  
  


On that Thursday evening of Daine's visit to the knight, the group in Neal's bedroom hardly merited its name of 'study'. 'Screaming with joy' would have been more accurate, because the news of the Lioness' remarkable recovery had reached them by supper time. The wide grin on each face and marked lack of writing on the parchments before them spoke for themselves; Neal alone was glum. At last the direct Faleron, tired of the monosyllabic replies and mile from crown to chin, rushed in where nobody had dared to tread.

"Neal, what in the name of all the Realms is the matter?"

"Oh... nothing."

Kel looked at Faleron. "You can't get away with that. We aren't stupid: we're your friends. We can tell you're upset. Stop lying - what's the matter?"

"Nothing, I tell you! I... well... I suppose... oh well, if you have to know, she's marrying him."

After a moment to work out the owners of the scrambled pronouns - no very onerous task, since Neal's besottion was common knowledge - most of the pages burst out laughing. Kel's heart, though, ached. She could imagine Neal's pain, she knew how much he felt for the wildmage; but she also knew that the object of his affections was deeply in love with the black-robe sorcerer.

"Neal... it'll make no difference to her. Not about you... she's always been committed to him... " was the only crumb of comfort she could find. Cold indeed! But Roald smiled encouragement at her and her heart quickened. Blessing the Yamanis, she kept her face fairly impassive.

Merric also seemed to specialise in ice. "Why don't you just chirk up a bit? There are plenty of young ladies at Court just dying to meet a tall dark stranger!"

"Oh yes. And they're really going to stay interested with a page! Especially the freak who chose to start five years later than any sane boy in the realm, especially with the half-wizard, half-warrior who can't settle to anything, especially with this tongue!"

"SHUT UP!" yelled Kel, suddenly sickened. "You chose to start late! You chose to leave your mage's training! You choose to answer back! Stop complaining to us about your choices! Go back and train, if that's what you want! Or settle to this, become a knight. Everyone loves a handsome young knight!"

All her friends stared at her. She blushed deeply, but gave them look for look. She wasn't ashamed...

"Yes. Well..." remarked Roald, winded in thought if not in body. "Yes..."

Surprisingly, this didn't spark a discussion. Silence continued.

"Did you know, we're going to protect the second attempt at spidren talks the day after tomorrow?" remarked Cleon, grinning with delight at having found a subject to which to change.

"Talks." stated Neal. "Led by whom?"

"Neal." said Kel, keeping her voice cool, low and steady. "Cheer up. Or shut up. We're not particularly bothered either way. 

"Has it really only been two weeks since the first talks, Merric? It feels as if it were much, much longer."

"No, it's been two weeks right enough... um, please can you help me with this awful algebra?"

So the talking, working and assisting went on, just as it had before... only Neal remained aloof. He sat on the corner of his bed and worked in sulky silence. His friends ignored him.

The day of the talks soon dawned, bright and fair. The pages and Numair were getting ready to leave but Daine slipped off, up to visit Alanna as she had taken to doing in the morning.

"Hello, Daine! Come and sit down!"

Daine did as she was told with a grin. "It's the talks today, the second attempt at them, did you know?"

"Spidrens? Of course it is! Splendid! The best of luck... and don't be offended at Wyldon. He can't help being a so-and-so. Don't let him get to you, and don't give him an opening in you can help it."

"Oh, I don't plan to! Though it might be a little hard..."

"Daine, you need to see a healer sometime soon, you know."

"Yes, but when? And whom should it be? I don't know any healing women."

"Ask Baird. He knows all the healers in the realm, I do believe!"

Daine laughed and took her leave. She'd spent too much time there already. The search for a healing woman would have to be done some other day.

They rode for three long hours. Kel talked to the Prince, to Merric, to Seaver, to Faleron and to Cleon, but nobody talked to Neal. He was still sulking from Kel's plain speaking. She, for her part, felt horribly guilty about him, though all their friends assured her that she had done the right thing.

Again, the pages were paired. Kel was less lucky this time. She was paired with Zahir. The tall, cruel Bazhir lost no time in pinching, poking, punching, pushing her. She stood still, stoically enduring. 

Stone, she whispered to herself, chanting it. Stone. No response. No feeling. Stone. Minding nothing. I'll last when he's long gone. He can't do anything. It'll all be the same a hundred years hence. I am stone. Stone. Stone...

A particularly hard push sent her stumbling out of line. It was just her luck that Wyldon was coming up the line at that moment, inspecting the otherwise-immaculately lined up pages.

"Page Keladry!" he shouted. "You stepped out of line! Have you an explanation?"

Explanations are excuses, Kel reminded herself. One takes what comes to one. "No, sir."

"Did you step out of line, Page Keladry? If not, what happened?"

"I slipped, sir."

"Ah. Take more care for the moment. Report to me at the noon bell, on the day on which we get back."

"Yes, sir."

He moved on. Kel, facing inwards, saw the spidrens enter. So did many others, all of whom shivered, gulped or yelped. Daine stepped forward.

"We come again, honoured sirs. Have you thought over our propositions from the last, unsuccessful talks?"

"We have." replied the Scanran who had been the spokesman before, still rolling his 'r's. "First, though, we wish to apologise for the unfortunate interruption to the last talks. Those who caused it have been severely punished."

Daine bowed. Glad it's not much later on! she thought. "I thank you for your concern. What is your answer to the terms we proposed?"

The talks went on all day with no interruptions. By the end of the day, the spidrens had agreed to stay in a small area in the north, in the Grimhold mountains near Scanra. Fief Trebond was given the charge of keeping them inside their area - Daine grinned at the thought of telling Alanna that!

They camped that night and Daine ironed out small misunderstandings in the morning. By the time they left, Kel was black-and-blue from Zahir's cruel pinches and Neal was still holding himself aloof.


	13. Confession

Chapter Thirteen

  
  


It was shortly after noon as Daine rode to the head of the procession, with five minutes left before they arrived back at the palace. She had successfully avoided Numair all day, scared that he might learn her secret, but even she couldn't avoid his frantic signals any longer.

"My darling!" he cried as she approached. "I thought we'd left you behind!"

Daine giggled. "Oh, it would take more than just leaving me behind to keep me away from you," she told him.

"Magelet, I really was worried. I still am - you haven't been yourself all week. Since before we were properly engaged, even! Why? What's the matter?"

Daine was trying to reply as honestly as her Secret allowed when Wyldon's voice interrupted her stammerings.

"Dismount!" The pages did. "Rub down mounts!" They began to do so. "When you finish - don't stop work, Joren of Stone Mountain - go in and change. The noon meal has been put back to twixt-bells. After it, go to your normal lessons. That's all. Mindelan, report to me as soon as the meal is over."

As the lord finished, Daine hopped from Cloud to Spots. Sitting astride the gelding behind her lover, she whispered into his neck, "How about now?" Holding tight as he twisted around, she seized his lips with hers. After a long, hungry, passionate kiss he gently pushed her away, shaking his head.

"No." he said. "You were different, somehow. And just now, you were acting yourself. What's wrong?"

"Nothing... Nothing's wrong." It isn't quite a lie, she told herself sternly. It isn't exactly wrong...

What? asked Cloud in her mind.

I'm going to be a dam.

A foal! How lovely! So why not tell him? He's the sire... isn't he?

Of course, Cloud. You have a really dirty mind, for one of the People! But... Oh, wait, he's saying something.

"Magelet? Can you talk to me now? I can see there's something wrong, something you're not telling me. Why? Can't you say?"

Daine buried her head in his shoulder. Somehow, it felt easier that way. "I'm going..." she mumbled.

"I can't hear you when you do that! Is it so hard to say?"

"Oh, yes."

"Harder than the story of the wolves? You told me that. If you really can't say it, I could get it from your mind..."

"No. You'd see... other things."

"Darling! Not more secrets from me?" His voice was light and amused, but carried a biting undertone of worry and fear.

"You'd be insufferable if you knew some of them, I tell you! You really want to know? You should, I suppose. It's your business as much as mine... I'm... I'm... No! I can't!"

Shaking his head, Numair took her in his arms and cuddled her close. She lay back, snuggling into him. His deep love and care shamed her and she resolved to tell him the Secret, although as fast as possible. She took a deep breath and blurted it, fast and quiet as she could, "I'm... going to have a baby."

His silence lasted for a long moment. Scared, Daine turned in his grip and looked up at her friend and lover.

"Numair?" she asked shakily. What would he do? How would he take it? Was he going to be angry? Worried? Perhaps he'd think she was only marrying him because of that! A host of horrible thoughts, each more horrible than the last, ran through her mind in those minutes and it must have shown in her face, for Numair bent over her and kissed her lips, full and long. She relaxed. Perhaps it was going to be all right.

"Ah, you poor thing!" sympathised Alanna, to whose chamber she had gone as soon as Numair had had to leave her - what had passed between them in that time is immaterial to the story!

"I was so scared. I've never been so scared in my life before!"

"Poor child. Do you feel all right now?"

"Yes, absolutely wonderful!"

"Then you're lucky! Me, I was sick. Every day, every minute it felt like, 'til I was six months gone. Then I only had a month of glorious freedom before I started again! Not that it was exactly free when I couldn't do anything energetic but it felt absolutely great to be able to eat!"

"Oh no! If I felt like that, I'd never have any children again!"

"Don't tell anyone, but... I felt just like that. Never again, I vowed. The twins were a mistake! Even more so when they were crawling around, ripping up all our things... Kara ate half my best new leather jerkin once. Then she threw it up all over my shield. Took weeks to clean!"

"Nice," commented Daine dryly. "Thank you for that! At least you can't tell me any horror stories about birth!"

"Oh, can't I?"

"My ma was a midwife." Daine informed her friend, blinking hard. "What I don't know about birth isn't worth the knowing! Can you give me some advice on a guest list for the wedding? We've got nearly seven hundred people we can't not invite, and we need to get it down to four hundred at the most."

"Fine..."

Three hours later, Baird walked in.

"You've been here long enough, Daine." he announced. "Alanna needs her rest, especially today."

Daine looked at her friend, who laughed. " I didn't tell you? I'm getting up for half an hour tomorrow!"

"Great! Congratulations! Thanks for the help... My lord duke," she added. "I would like to respectfully invite you to my wedding to Numair Salmalín, on the first day of Midwinter."

"Thank you! I'd be pleased to come."

Alanna looked at the younger woman. Daine bit her lip, knowing what the Lioness was telling her to do. "Uh, sir... do you know of any healing women in the palace? Or the city." she added in some confusion.

The healer's dark eyes searched her. She fidgeted uncomfortably, sure that somehow the chief of the palace healers knew her Secret. But he only answered "Yes, quite a few. Do you want to decide now?"

"Please," said Daine and followed him out. Alanna watched them go, violet eyes sad. She wished with all her heart that she could follow.

Lord Wyldon had chastised Kel for clumsiness after her lunch. Then she had gone to Master Oakbridge's etiquette lesson, where at that moment she and Esmond were discussing this forthcoming wedding. As the palace master of ceremonies, Oakbridge was explaining the serving system for the Midwinter Feast. This lasted eight days and was the most formal of the year's few celebrations. As second-year pages, Kel's friends would be serving the guests. All would be nervous, but at the moment they were too absorbed in gossiping about the court wedding on the first day of the Feast. Not that they were invited, of course, apart from lucky Roald - an old friend of Daine's and who, being the Prince, was at most court occasions - and Neal. He was still sulking away and even talked of refusing the coveted invitation! Still almost none of his friends were really speaking to him, which was why he was the only one paying attention in the class. Kel's soft heart was sad for him, but she tried not to sympathise. Instead she gossiped with the best of them about the recovering Lady Knight and the wedding... although she knew much less about both than Neal, with all his contacts all over the palace, would have known.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	14. Neal

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Tamora Pierce.

Responding to reviews (please feel free to skip this bit!!)...

Clarylissa: here y'are!

Reaya: where's that? I've searched, but I can't find any reference to the twins' names or even sexes. I made the names up.

  
  


Chapter Fourteen

  
  


Page Keladry of Mindelan looked at Prince Roald of Conté, Heir to the throne of Tortall; and Prince Roald looked at the first legal female page. She bit her lip, her face remaining smooth and calm thanks only to the Yamanis, because Roald hadn't yet spoken and his face was as anxious as hers should have been. She willed him to hurry up and tell her, if he would; waiting still, she slumped inwardly although far too well trained to show it.

"Um, Kel..." he said at last, his voice soft and uncertain " Neal's really upset. He thinks you were being callous and unfeeling and insulting him. He asked me to deliver an ultimatum."

"A what?"

"To tell you that if he doesn't get a formal apology in front of witnesses within two hours, he challenges you to a duel."

Physical pain hit Kel's heat at the formal message of hatred from her once-best friend. "But why? He must be so unhappy..."

"So I am to tell him that you refuse to apologise and challenge him, in return, for his besmirching of your character? And you ask him to reconsider and rescind his challenge, if he does you shall follow suit with yours, for if your duel proceeds he shall lose and probably receive serious injury?"

"I'm sure... I don't absolutely follow, but no doubt Neal will! Anyway, it sounds impressive!"

Daine and Numair had received replies from all but one of the three hundred and seventy eight people whom they had invited. All the important people of the palace would be there: the King and Queen, with the eight royal children, Duke Baird, the Gareths of Naxen, all would grace the proceedings. Onua, Sarge and Buri, with Evin Larse, Padrach and Miri from the field, represented the Queen's Riders; Alanna, of course, was coming with her husband and children; Maura of Dunlath and Tait the huntsman - without Flicker and the Pack, for Numair had forbidden Daine to invite animals! - were on their way ;and both Lindhall Reed and Harailt of Aili were already in the palace. Emperor Kaddar of Carthak had wished them both well and sent a gift, but his duties as Emperor did not permit his absence during the festival. Only Nealan of Queenscove had not yet replied to the invitation.

"I suppose I couldn't have expected it," said Daine thoughtfully. "It would torture the poor boy, but he knows both of us and deserves an invitation..."

"Why would it torture him?" asked Numair.

"Why, I couldn't come to your wedding, darling, and I sincerely hope you couldn't come to mine! I just wish he'd refuse quickly, that's all."

"I didn't know that Nealan fancied you."

"But of course he does! He's had a crush on me for years. Where have you been to have missed his staring at me from all directions? Poor kid, I shouldn't laugh..."

"No, you shouldn't. And you haven't encouraged him?"

"Numair!" cried Daine, offended. "What do you take me for? Of course I've never said or done anything. Anything whatsoever!"

"You shouldn't be getting excited! Calm down! I'm sorry, my magelet. I just want you all to myself. All mine!"

And as he pulls his lover to him, we shall leave them...

Daine returned alone from the city that night. She had been to see a young healing woman, who had examined her and pronounced all to be normal and perfectly healthy. Her relief was stupendous! She felt like running back and cheering, screaming to Numair that SHE WAS ALL RIGHT! But she hadn't told him any of her worries, not even where she was going that evening - with the wedding in two days, she had decided that the poor man had enough on his plate!

Kel stood nervously in the practice yards, waiting for Neal. She still felt a traitor, because although she knew the myriad reasons for his great sorrow, she could do nothing about it. Indeed, the Code of Chivalry told her that she had to protect her honour as a noble before anything else. But by doing that, she would make him feel so much worse! It was a puzzle, it was unfair, but she had to do it. Which was why she was standing there now, ready to fight her ex-best friend.

It began to rain, the wintry weather echoing the winter misery in Kel's heart. It was especially bitter that this had come now, with the Midwinter Festival so soon, with the palace rejoicing at the deliverance of Sir Alanna, with a wedding the very next day! Kel didn't know that she was gripping her sword - all pages were lent a sword from the palace armoury until, or unless, they owned their own - so tightly that her knuckles were white; she didn't know how still she stood or how her face was hard and beautiful as diamond. She knew nothing until she was shaken out of her musings by the cough in front of her.

It was Neal, of course. He looked at her - padded and ready to fight, eyes full of tears and of pity - with a wan imitation of the steady, unsettling look that he always levelled at an opponent, and she looked back at him - padded up, ready to fight, eyes dull and despairing - through a mist of tears.

"Keladry of Mindelan," he said dully. "We have quarrelled and will settle the disagreement as gent- as nobles. I would like to reassure you that it will be no insult to your honour when you lose."

"Oh no, Nealan of Queenscove," replied Kel politely. "It will be no insult at all to my honour, for I will never lose!"

The boy's eyebrow twitched slightly upwards, and hope flooded Kel like the warmth of a hot bath. Neal's face returned to its impassive stillness, but she had seen it. He would recover. Some time. Someday.

She knew what to say, for her friends - especially Roald - had drilled her in the formalities. She took a deep breath and continued.

"In that light, sir, would you like to reconsider? It will be no insult, but rather the opposite, if you withdraw your challenge. I would like to settle the quarrel without losing our friendship, if that is possible. If you persist with your challenge, I will have no choice but to duel and to win."

"No choice but to duel and to win." repeated Neal, assuming the 'guard' stance. Kel bowed and copied him, determining not - as she had half-considered - to give way.

He attacked, feinting to try to reveal a weakness. She blocked and thrust; he skipped out of the way. He swiped his sword sideways in the first stroke of the Crescent Moon; she blocked him and locked her sword hilt with his. Body-to-body they struggled, giving Kel a chance to think. Neal was a good swordsman, but he tired easily. She had more stamina and agility, probably about equal strength, but little expertise with a sword. A glaive, now, that would be different...

A fitting punishment for allowing her thoughts to wander: Neal broke and rolled, returning to the attack and landing a heavy blow on her left elbow before she noticed his move. Stifling a yelp of intense pain, she swiped at him, thrusting towards his chest, fighting like a machine with no chance to think. Thrust, block; stroke, block; thrust, roll; stroke, body-to-body. They struggled, Neal's strength ebbing with fatigue. She forced him down and presented her sword tip to the bridge of his nose.

"Fatal contact. Keladry of Mindelan defeats Nealan of Queenscove." said Esmond tonelessly. She looked at him, panting for air, the pain in her elbow almost overcoming her defenses. Neal scowled up at her. She bit her lip. He looked at her, tears spilling from his eyes. Hers too were full. They looked at one another.

"I'm sorry, Neal." It was barely more than a whisper.

"You were so unfeeling!"

"I'm sorry. I never had any tact."

"I'm sorry. I was too touchy."

She helped him up with her good arm. Someone began to clap. Everyone was grinning.

Thank goodness that's over, thought Kel as she walked to meet her friends.


	15. Wedding

Disclaimer: If you recognise anything, it's Tamora Pierce's. (Or mine from a previous chapter, of course...!)

Thank you to reviewers! (Skip this bit if you like...)

AmayaNightRain11: thank you for such a long & well thought out review; and no, there are another 15 chapters to come!

Forget-me-not: thanks for the twins' names & the compliment!

Reaya: thanks for the names as well! Sorry you didn't like the duel, I agree it isn't Neal's thing but I thought in that situation he might become rather an officer and a gentleman... but it wasn't particularly well thought out, I admit!!!

Lady Satine: not very soon, sorry, but here you go!

  
  
  
  


Chapter Fifteen

  
  


Daine gazed into the long mirror and gasped. She saw her wedding dress.

A smooth bodice of pale yellow silk exposed fashionably white shoulders and the top of her bust. A simple A-line skirt fell from a high triangular waist to pool like liquid gold around her feet, encased in dainty silk slippers, tied with narrow green ribbon and just noticeable among the folds of her dress on the floor. She had held out for short, loose sleeves and had her way; they stopped halfway down her upper arm, ending with a wide, straight band of ribbon matching the silk of the dress. Cream silk gloves sheathed her slender arms to the elbows. The low neckline of the dress was emphasised by a delicate gold chain around her neck upon which hung a pendant of a single perfect emerald encased in pale gold. Around her right wrist was a loose bracelet, a filigree chain with links of gold and clasps of emerald; her left wrist was bare. She wore star-shaped earbobs of emeralds set in pale gold, just visible in the hair brushed into a mass of smoky-brown ringlets, tied around her head with a wide ribbon matching that on her shoes and then falling free to below her shoulders.

Alanna appeared behind her in the mirror.

"Daine, you look just too beautiful."

The bride laughed. "Who can look too beautiful for their wedding day?" she teased. "Do I really look all right?"

"You look perfect. The green-and-cream suits you, you look as if spring has come already!"

"Really? Oh, I am glad! I meant it to be gold, but the dye wasn't fast in the silk.." They both laughed.

"Even so, it's perfect. Can I have the address of your seamstress?" Smiling, Alanna got, slowly and almost steadily, to her feet with a sigh of regret. "I'd better go. There's only so long that the other six can save a seat! Especially when the bride's so very popular..."

"Ah, get away with you!" grinned Daine, as there came a knock on the door. She looked up. "Come in!"

It was the King, who was to give Daine away. She jumped as she saw him. "What's the time?" she demanded of him.

"The first bell after noon has just rung," he replied. "and it starts at twixt-bells, so you need to be there in less than three quarters of a bell."

"It's nowhere near long enough," said Daine thoughtfully, "and yet it's far too long to wait. How odd. I can't wait to marry Numair, and yet I don't want it to be so soon."

"It's the end of an era. You'll be very different in an hour's time. Of course you're scared," said Alanna as she leant, panting slightly, on the door, giving the bride a straight look that made her jump - Alanna knew why she wanted to be married quickly! "See you there, and don't be too scared!"

Daine licked her suddenly-dry lips and turned to the mirror for reassurance. The face that crowned the dress was pale and frightened, but even through the fear shone the greatest joy that she had ever seen.

It was a jolt when the two quarters rang out: it was twixt-bells already? She looked at the King as he stood up.

"Yes, it's twixt-bells and the wedding should be starting, my dear," he told her, "so you should be there fairly soon. Shall we start?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and they left.

Daine remembered very little of the walk to the chapel. She remembered almost tripping on her unaccustomed long skirts; remembered the long flight of stairs to the ground floor; remembered taking the bouquet of white lilac with its stems of pale green at the door of the chapel. The rest was merely a blur.

A blur, too, was most of the ceremony. Daine remembered walking a few paces up the aisle on King Jonathan's arm, then the sick and scared feeling when he left her; she remembered scanning the chapel for the faces of her friends and seeing them all there, every one, from Queen Thayet to Onua Chamtong, the Rider Horsemistress; she remembered oh, so vividly the breaks in Numair's light tenor as he vowed fidelity and honour, and her own voice quavering as she vowed in reply; she remembered the love in his beautiful dark face as he slipped the ring over her fourth finger, and as she mirrored the gesture. And then she was Veralidaine Sarrasri no more.

She and Numair - my husband, her mind reminded - left the chapel holding hands. At the door, they turned to each other and kissed.

"I feel even better now that I'm an honest woman!" murmured Daine, very low, into her husband's ear.

Roald and Neal, tho only pages to have attended the wedding, were much in demand that evening. They held court over supper and in their study group. The pages would be serving at the Feast in the evening of the next day, but this evening they were free... and quite definitely making the most of it!

"And guess who caught the bouquet!" finished Neal.

"One of the court ladies," guessed cautious Esmond.

"One of the Rider women..." opined Seaver.

"Maura of Dunlath!" decided impulsive Merric.

"None of them," said Neal triumphantly, "Princess Kalasin."

Kel looked at the Prince. "Highness? Is there a wedding arranged for her?"

"No. My mother said she would allow it once Kally reached thirteen, which as you know she did this year, but everyone knows how Mama feels about the whole matter. Kally's marriage is a last resort, a seal held in reserve for a particularly difficult treaty... which is very nice for Kally, I'm sure. I only wish they would extend the same courtesy to the prince."

"But, Highness, she is a year younger than you! And those arrangements were a last resort. Father spent months trying to organise it so that you needn't marry Princess Chisakami! And it all turned out all right, anyway, with her eloping with that sergeant... You needn't complain, Father's said that since a princess of the blood royal has broken the agreements of her father and counsellors, the Yamani Isles must not try to put another on the throne of Tortall for if they do we will take it as an attempt to weaken the realm by giving it a loose and ridiculous Queen..."

Kel trailed off as she saw the eyes of each one of her friends fixed on her. She grinned, "Neal, you've seen the letters I get from Father! He never writes of anything else. That's the letter I got last week and I was going to tell you all, except..." Last week rose unbidden to their minds, and silence fell. 

Lying on the double bed, Daine looked around the room that she had left that morning. The walls were still magnolia, and the furniture hadn't been moved or the oak floor polished. The pictures were the same, the wardrobe door still wouldn't shout; even the blanket over them and the night-dress that she wasn't wearing were the same. But the suite was now the home of a married couple.

"Numair," she said, "Don't you thank there's something... odd... about the way nothing's changed? I could imagine it was yesterday still, but I know we've changed."

"I hope we stay the same in some ways!" said Numair flippantly, extending a hand to her, "But yes, I know what you mean. I feel as I used to feel on my birthday when I was a child, exactly the same as the day before... but I was a whole year older!"

"That's just it! It's just the same as yesterday, except... except that you're my husband."

"I thought I knew that, til I heard you say it. We are married! By all the gods, we're married, and nobody can ever take you away from me! Oh, Daine..."

"I'm so glad," and she looked it too from Numair's vantage point of a couple of inches away, "really glad that I haven't ruined everything for you."

"Magelet, it was I who pestered you for years to marry me! I was hoping that I hadn't spoiled things for you!"

"Numair! Never!"

"I can't tell you how glad I am... but Daine," he stopped stroking her, "I have to ask you something. Would you have accepted me if you hadn't... you know..."

"I don't know, actually. I've been thinking about that... somehow, I don't think I would have. Oh no! Not the way you mean, not that at all... it was more that, having resisted you for so long, I was justifying it to myself and I needed to excuse accepting you. I'll always be grateful that I forgot my charm, because it gave me that excuse."

"Oh, Daine! How I love you!"


	16. Midwinter

Slightly sooner this time!!!

Disclaimer: It's all Tamora Pierce's. Apart from the soi-disant plot...

Thank you, Forget-me-not! Did I need to say Weiryn and the Green Lady...

  
  


Chapter Sixteen

  
  


Kel stood nervously by the door from the kitchens into the grand state banqueting hall. This would be the first time she had ever served the guests at a state banquet and she was horribly afraid that she'd make such a hash of it that it would be her last! She had been assigned to wait on a group of wealthy merchants and their wives from the city. Not a job to be envied! The nouveau riche were reported to be fussy, sharp-tongued, not only conservative but reactionary and nervously vindictive.

She bit her lip, for the King had begun to say grace. His wonderful voice filled the hall in an articulate and well-expressed prayer, giving thanks for the mild winter and the spring that it would bring, for the old year that was ending and the new year that was to come, but - quite aside from her personal dislike of King Jonathan - she couldn't concentrate on anything. As soon as he finished, she would have to start serving...

Somebody shoved a tray of soup bowls into her hands, soup slopping over the side of the bowls from the rough handling. With skill perfected with long practise - Joren and his people had given her that! - she managed to keep everything almost upright as she laid the tray down to mop up the spills and cast around for the other things she needed to take. She found the finger-bowls - three merchants, three wives, six is right, thank Mithros, there are only six left - a handful of neatly-folded finger towels, six small plates and knives, three dishes of butter and a basket of bread. Was that all?

"So mote it be," echoed all the guests. Kel's stomach lurched - she was meant to be serving people now! Forgetting to check everything again, she snatched the tray from the work table, left the safety of the kitchens and walked the short way to the near-the-back table where the guests assigned to her sat. She began to serve them, placing a bowl of finest tomato-and-basil soup, a plate and a knife before each guest. When she had done that, she put out the finger-bowls and towels. She laid down the butter dishes and began to offer around the bread. Done. What was she meant to do now? There was something, she knew, but her mind was totally blank. She panicked...

"Napkins!" whispered Esmond as he passed her on his way back to the kitchens. Kel grinned her thanks.

"Does anyone need a napkin?" she asked, praying that nobody would answer. That was what she'd forgotten - spare napkins!

"I do," said a sharp-faced merchant's wife.

"M- and I." said a younger, harsher voice.

"Is that all?" asked Kel, partly politeness, partly putting off the evil hour when she would have to go and get some. A smartly-turned-out man asked for one and everyone else looked at her expectantly, as if I'm going to pull a string of them out of somebody's ear, she thought bitterly. Blushing, she excused herself and turned to go... then she saw Neal walking past, back towards the kitchens, a tray held high... a tray... with about twenty clean white napkins on it! Without saying anything she grabbed a handful of them, turned back to the table and gave them out. Then, sighing with relief, she returned to the kitchens. She tried to care nothing for what the city people thought of her.

She explained what she had had to do to an indignant Neal who had had to pick up the other fifteen from the floor and he rocked with laughter. They talked for a while, but all too soon it was time for her to serve the next course. This was the fish, salmon steaks that had been soaked in some sort of sweet marinade and then quickly pan-seared, but Kel had little or no interest in the food beyond how very, very easy it would be to spill. She made it to the table without mishap and started to clear away the empty soup plates and to serve the salmon. As she worked, one hard-looking woman leaned over the table and spoke to her.

"You're a bit slow at this, aren't you! What's your name?"

"Keladry of Mindelan." said Kel tightly, bracing herself for the squalls that she knew were coming.

"Keladry... you're the girl!"

"Yes, madam." Kel blessed the Yamanis again as she looked the nosy lady straight in the eyes.

"We cannot condone such indecency! We require another page to serve us." 

"Yes, madam." Kel finished serving the merchants and walked with dignity back to the kitchens. Master Oakbridge took the news badly.

"Another page! What are they thinking of? What does it matter to them whether you're a girl or a boy or a... a dragon? Page Quinden of Marti's Hill," he called over the first boy that he saw, "whom are you serving?"

"Mages. Master Salmalín and his wife, the Dean of the royal university and so on. They're on the first table on the right."

"Fine. Please take Mindelan's place with the merchants at the sixth table on the left. She will take over yours. Is there a problem, Page Quinden?"

"Oh no, sir. Everything is fine!"

Kel crossed to the first table - it was too far up the room! - with the next course. It was beef slowly roasted with herbs and spices, with potatoes and vegetables. It smelt delicious and Kel was starving! Despite herself, she wished she could eat it...

She came to herself with a jolt, to realise that she was nearly at the other end of the table from the one at which she was meant to be! Cursing inwardly, she decided that she'd just have to start at that end. 

She served the beef and cleared away the used dishes then returned to the kitchens, oblivious to the conversation behind her.

"Poor girl," Daine was saying, looking at the page. "I wonder who was making trouble, that she had to be moved."

"I expect she'll be all right. It's her second year, so she should be through the worst of the teasing."

"I won-der. Some people will never accept anything with which they don't agree," Daine's eyes were sad as she remembered her village, the tragedy in her past... She set her lips and shook herself out of the mood. "You took her class once for history, didn't you? Did you notice anything?"

Her husband shook his head with a sad, mocking smile. "Magelet, if the barrier between the Realms had disappeared again at that moment, I doubt if I would have taken a blind bit of notice."

Daine looked up at him, aghast. "Oh, Numair! I'm so sorry! How could I remind you of that?"

Numair looked at her, a wicked smile on his lips. "Eat up, Daine! You must be hungry... after all, you are eating for two!"

  
  


As one would expect, there was a stunned silence. Numair's voice carried, and it just so happened that there had been a slight lull in the conversations around them at that particular moment. Daine blushed a fiery red and looked angrily up at him... then shook her head and laughed.

"You had to be dramatic about it, didn't you!" she hissed.

That broke the spell. People carried on talking... and if it was with rather more raised eyebrows and shifty glances at the pair than usual, well, that was only to be expected. Harailt of Aili, Dean of the Royal University and possessor of a very dirty common-born sense of humour, looked away from the young woman sitting on his right and leaned towards Daine and Numair.

"Well, well, well!" he said gleefully. "You sly old dog!"

Numair reddened and opened his mouth to say something, but Daine - who knew his tendency to dig himself into a hole - silenced him with a hand on his thigh and leapt into the breach.

"Not so old, Harailt!" she told the Dean archly. He sniggered, but Numair pushed Daine's hand away.

"Forgive my wife, Harailt," he said clearly, loudly and coldly. His eyes were blazing, his lips white, his cold voice tightly controlled. "She forgets her new dignity as a married lady."

At that, Daine exploded.


	17. Consequences

Disclaimer: All characters and settings - I think! - belong to Tamora Pierce. I'll give them back like a good girl!

  
  


Sorry that it's such a /long/ time since I've posted! I've been busy. And this chapter was a particular so-and-so to write...

  
  


Chapter Seventeen

  
  


"/Dignity/! Mithros, Mynoss and Shakith! Me, have dignity as a married lady when you've just said what you have? You hypocrite - you /idiot/! Do you have no brain at all? I knew I shouldn't have told you! I knew you couldn't keep a secret if I paid you! Couldn't you see that I didn't want you to tell anyone? Least of all the entire Realm at a stroke -"

"Daine, calm /down/!" whispered Numair, putting his hand over hers."Think of your reputation!"

"/Reputation/!" screamed Daine, shaking his hand away and smashing her fist onto the table. "Thanks to you, I /have/ no gods-cursed reputation! Haven't you been cursed /listening/? Mithros! Do you /want/ your wife known as a gods-cursed /whore/?" Daine fell silent, as angry as she had ever been. Some calm part of her noticed that the entire banqueting hall was silent, watching and listening to the drama at the first table with total concentration, but the Wildmage simply couldn't care less.

"Daine, if it wasn't for your condition this would be inexcusable..."

"/My condition/! You weren't so coy a few minutes ago when you told the world about it, were you?"

"Daine! /Listen/ to me!" Numair's voice was quiet, but it hit her with a physical force as if he'd slapped her face. She tried to open her mouth, but found that she couldn't. Curse her a thousand times for being such a fool as to marry a mage!

"Daine. You are showing me up. The kindest explanation I can suggest is that you are tired and overwrought. If you object, I'll say you're being deliberately naughty and childish. Now be quiet and behave yourself or go to bed." He lifted his hand and she could speak.

"Go and boil yourself," she suggested pleasantly, "I'm your wife, not your twelve-year-old pupil any more. I could use my magic on you just as easily and effectively as you use yours on me. But, unlike you, I don't think it's very nice or appropriate to score off my husband with powers he doesn't have. Now tell me what you think I've done wrong."

"As if you didn't know! You've only been married a day, and I blush to think what you've been doing."

He wasn't blushing, and she considered saying so. His dark face was pale, his lips white and thinned. She was red, she knew; she'd lost her temper some time ago and, like Numair, was heading out the other side.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your shameless flirting with the Dean -"

"Excuse me? I was trying to stop you from saying anything else you'd regret later. Distract people from what you said earlier. Which I was trying very hard not to argue with you about. But I suppose that was mean and futile, since you clearly want a row! Might I suggest that the first table at the State Midwinter banquet is hardly the place for one?"

Numair didn't reply. Instead, he turned pointedly to the beef, served such a long time ago, that had started all this. His manner was hardly less cold. Daine clenched her teeth and smiled dazzlingly at Harailt. 

Master Upton Oakbridge usually thrived on disasters, they giving him the rare treat of a chance to fuss about restoring order. This, though, seemed a disaster of too great a magnitude for enjoyment of setting right, possibly even of too great a magnitude to set right at all; for which reason he was half mad with annoyance.

"Oh, I could kill them! Both of them!" he moaned, glancing every so often during his ignored tirade through the door and wincing at each fresh exchange. "It's utterly indecent... the conjugal row is /so/ embarrassing for the onlooker! Absolutely ruined my banquet, and it was going so well... what in the name of all the realms can we do now? Mithros, help me!"

He looked out of the door again and turned back, shuddering. It was a welcome respite for the pages, most of whom were watching or at least listening closely, vastly entertained. Neal, though, was close to tears.

"Oh, Neal. She's married! Surely it's different now, especially now that you know she's..." Kel was about to say 'going to have a baby' but, with a rare flash of tact, substituted, " got a temper worse than the Lioness's!"

Neal shook his head. "How could he love her if he speaks to her like that? I could never shout at Daine, or cast spells on her. He was so cruel! If she'd let it go, she wouldn't have been Daine. She answered him so well! I wish -"

"Quiet!" cried the master of ceremonies. "Quiet! Serve the next course immediately!"

Sighing, the pages did as bid, collecting plates and jugs and filing despondently out of the kitchens. The silence that greeted them was far worse than the quarrel had been.

Several courses later, after the cheese plate had been put in front of them, Numair shut his eyes for a second, took a deep breath and turned to look at his wife - who was regarding him with something in her gaze that disturbed him and made him nervous even as it quickened his pulse. 

"Daine...", he said, and paused, "I love you. And... I'm sorry."

She went on looking at him for a second, still more cooly, and he felt his cheeks burn. Then she smiled.

"Accepted, my love. But don't do it again!"

He relaxed and leaned forward, putting his arms around her. She tenderly kissed his cheek and then looked into his eyes, seeing a wealth of sorrow and love to match hers. Their lips came softly together, first briefly then, it seemed, permanently.

At the kitchen door, Upton Oakbridge shut his eyes,


	18. New Pages!

Disclaimer: I own Philip! I /own/ Philip!!! I've actually invented a character who isn't a Mary-Sue! Everything else... Ms Pierce, the great, the good, owns it all...

  
  


This chapter is dedicated to Claire and our KITWG conversations. The last place I'd expected to find a fellow Tammy & fanfiction fan!!!

  
  
  
  


Chapter Eighteen

  
  


The pages had assembled, standing in lines in front of Lord Wyldon and two boys, obviously new pages. One was tall, lean and dark-skinned, with tousled, floppy black hair and brown eyes. He was the most attractive person Kel had ever seen, including Roald, and he looked about twelve. The other seemed younger, perhaps ten, and although rather plain he looked bold and confident. His build was short and stocky, his hair almost as red as Merric's, his eyes hazel. Wyldon pointed at the former.

"Your name," he demanded, "and the holding of your family."

The boy smiled with friendly self-assurance at the assembled pages and replied confidently, "Philip of Olau." 

They looked at one another in amazement. Sir Myles had a son? When Seaver had chosen to sponsor the handsome new page the training master gestured to the other, repeating his demand. The boy squared his shoulders.

"Thom of Pirate's Swoop," he stated distantly.

This time, the astonished murmur was much louder. The son of a common-born new baron - and that baron rumoured to have been not only a commoner, but a famous thief - and the famed Lady Knight? Who on earth would choose to sponsor him? 

Not Kel, she was sure. It would do him no good to be sponsored by someone in Wyldon's black books and, his mother being who she was, she doubted whether Wyldon would allow it anyway. But nobody else volunteered. She had known, of course, that none of Joren's friends would; nor Roald, for all their parents' friendship. But surely someone else...

"I will," said Faleron of King's Reach at last, putting up his hand. Kel raised her eyebrows. Faleron? He had no objection to lady knights, she knew, or the new nobility... after all, he was friends with her! But he hated the system of sponsorship and had refused to be sponsored when he came purely on principle. He thought that it encouraged bullying and hazing by admitting that a new boy needed a protector, yet did nothing practical about the problem since the sponsor was all too often unwilling to get involved in disagreements between his charge and the older pages. Yet Faleron seemed unwilling to wish his sponsorless months on any other new page.

Thom grinned at his new sponsor and moved to stand with him. They, like the rest of the group, left for Neal's bedroom when Lord Wyldon dismissed them.

Kel looked at the two additions to the group. You could see who he was if you looked for the resemblance: Philip of Olau, son of Myles of Olau. But surely that would mean - 

"Hullo, nephew!" said he to Thom. Thom snorted with laughter.

"Uncle!" he whined, childishly. He returned to his normal voice. "I thought we'd agreed to drop all that?"

Philip's eyes twinkled with mischief. "You told me so! I don't do things just because my little nephew tells me to, now do I?"

"Not unless you've changed since I last saw you..." said Thom mock-thoughtfully. Kel smiled. She liked Thom's sort of humour.

"Ah, the Lady Page!" announced Thom without missing a beat, wheeling to face her. "I beg your pardon for ignoring you, madam. I was trying to settle some sense in my poor uncle's head. I trust I find you well?"

"If she isn't, she's no less good at beating us up," drawled Neal ruefully, tenderly rubbing a spreading bruise on his cheek, "That hoyden knocked me from the saddle this morning!"

"If you spent more time securing your seat and less securing your elegant looks, you'd do better," retorted Kel, "I beg your pardon, Thom. Er... what relation are you two exactly?"

"Well," Philip said, and had to stop to laugh, "on my father's side, he's the son of my adopted half-sister. That makes him a nephew. If, of course, you count adoption as creating relationships between all subsequent children, and if you didn't, Pa, Mama and Alanna would all kill you. He's also the son of my half-brother - that's my mother's son, George, of course - so he's my half-nephew. We think. The relationship rules weren't set up for the kind of tangle that there is in our family! But it works out that I'm his half-uncle, unless you're a mathematician."

Blank looks all round.

"Two halves make a whole?" Philip suggested to groans.

Thom scowled at his uncle. "The number of times you've tried that one!" He turned to face the others. "I must apologise. It took him so long to think up that joke, he thinks the day wasted when he can't use it." He paused, and enquired, "Is one presented? Or does one introduce oneself?"

The boys and Kel looked at one another. They had never met anyone quite like these two! Neal, taking the law into his own hands as usual, named each of the group. Most, Kel included, were quite well impressed with the latest additions to their ranks, though, as Kel sagaciously informed herself, only time will tell what they're really like.

Having dealt with their business, King Jonathan's private council began to drift out of the chamber. But just as the King's Champion got up to go, Jonathan coughed meaningfully.

"Alanna! Er, Alanna..." he began delicately, "can I have a word?"

"Why, of course, my lord king," she replied, face bland and innocent. She was rewarded by a snort from Gary, turned and grinned at him 

"Alanna! This is serious," snapped Jonathan. "It's about... your son."

Alanna raised her eyebrows, not quite seeing the point he would make but certain it would not be a happy one. "You are a knight, Jonathan," she replied carefully, "and your son is a page. It's not as if I've put Kara or Eleni forward, although that would also be allowed under your laws Surely any member of the nobility, especially a knight which I am, is entitled to send his or her son to court as a page?"

"It's not that." he told her, "It's the company he keeps."

Alanna apologised silently to her husband. "Worse than the king of the thieves, my lord king?"

That made him smile, despite himself. "You haven't lost your tongue for pert answers, have you? No, but I mean it. He often speaks to Keladry of Mindelan."

Alanna's violet eyes widened. She had been prepared for squalls, but this was a bit much. Her voice was cold and rather angry, but she wasn't raging yet. "Jonathan, I don't quite see the problem. Her best friend is Baird's son; she knows Roald well; and if Thom is getting to know her, then Myles's Philip will certainly make friends with her as well. You aren't speaking like this to Baird and Myles, are you? And you're certainly not forbidding Roald to have contact with her. Why am I being singled out?"

"For one thing, Thom is your son and thus is in a particularly - difficult position. For another, he spends a lot of time in Keladry's company -"

Alanna lost her shaky grip on her temper. "And what does that prove?" she yelled, "That he has good enough taste in friends to choose a page with ideals, and not only ideals, the strength of will to make them come true? That he has joined a group of the best pages in the palace, a group that includes your son? Why can't he be friendly with Keladry? Did I miss a clause in the law, that the son of a lady knight cannot make friends with a lady page?" She stopped, fighting for breath and the King leapt into the breach.

"Alanna! Listen to me! You're not being reasonable. People will talk. He has the Gift, he might..."

"Shut up!" screamed Alanna with all her might. "Why did you pass that law if this is how you're going to cripple it, blind it, tortuously avoid it? Why can't my son have a conversation with a fellow-page without you saying that he's witching her for me? You've been a good king, but you've lost all your feeling for people that made you so if you can't see that this is just plain wrong!" Exhausted, she slumped back into her chair.

"Alanna! Are you all right?" asked Daine anxiously at this point in the knight's recital. "You can't still be drained? It's nearly two months since you... since then!"

"I'm all right! Well, pretty much so. But I get tired so cursed easily. Especially when I've been screaming at a thick-headed monarch!"

Daine smiled, but she wouldn't be distracted from her concern for her friend. "You ought to rest. Really, you should."

"Rest! That's what Baird says. I know I ought to. But" - and Alanna banged the table between them with her fist to emphasise her point - "I'm a knight! I don't do rest!"

"I know the feeling, Alanna. Believe me, I know it well!"

"Why? You're all right, aren't you?" Alanna, worried, looked sharply at the other woman.

Daine pulled a face. "Lilline tells me that I'm doing too much. She says that if I keep on as usual, I'll be in a bad state later on. But all the books say do all you can, just rest when you're tired. Which I'm not. But I mean it, you really ought to rest more."

Alanna held up her hands in a gesture of peace. "Stop fussing! I'm not tired now, anyway. Just angry - very angry. The King won't budge from his position and I was too exhausted to carry on arguing."

"What does he want you to do?"

Alanna's violet eyes were dangerous. "He gave me an ultimatum. No contact between Thom and me, or no contact between Thom and Keladry. I told him that he'd be breaking all the laws of noble privilege if he went through with it. Then I walked out."

"You haven't got through a year yet! And even after you saved Thayet - are you going to leave Court?"

"It was a deadly insult. I'm not speaking to him until he apologises. It was wrong to start with, I showed that and I took away my objection by returning and apologising. I'm not going to make that mistake again. If it means another quarrel, another departure, then so be it. And it does."


	19. Certain Rumours and Worries

Disclaimer: I don't own (in order of appearance) Tortall, Alanna, Jonathan, the Court, Thom (although personality-wise he's pretty much my invention), Kel, Neal, Wyldon, Joren, Vinson, Daine or Numair. Gosh, I've got a lot of people in this chapter! 

I do own Vinson's horse. I think... 

  
  


Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I'm delighted -- I' don't think I've ever had so many reviews for a chapter! And I'm sorry I haven't replied to your reviews for the last few chappies - this might take a while...

  
  


Amaya: Thanks for the praise! You'll turn my head... I'm glad someone liked the description! I was a little concerned I'd gone on for far too long, but hey - I like clothes!

  
  


Forget-me-not: Thank you for reading and reviewing. I appreciate your comments - maybe Numair was drunk and shouting? :)! I just wanted to see how Daine would react, really. Guess I didn't do that bit too well, either...!!! But thanks.

  
  


Ti-Ti: This do?

  
  


CrazyHorseGirl: Hey, third chapter since you asked for an update! (To review of ch.17) I thought it was a bit odd - glad someone liked it! (To review of ch.18) Me, I like Jon; but I can't seem to get that across! Not really D/N yet, but it will come - promise! Currently planned for the next chapter!

  
  


Sky: Glad you like it.

  
  


Katie: Here goes!

  
  


Sw33t Temptations: hehe yourself! Thank you very much!

  
  


The keeper of words: Thank you for all your reviews, and I'm glad you like it! Sorry about the names; I tried to find out Alanna's children's names before I wrote the chapter, but that was pre-Trickster's Choice (which I still haven't read!) and nobody knew. I hope to reconcile Alanna and Jon (/again/, I know) in a bit - keep reading!

  
  


Chronicles: here you go! I'm pleased you approve: thank you.

  
  


Bubblegum: *grins* thanks v. much.

  
  
  
  


Now, at last, the moment you've all been waiting for...

  
  


dum da DUM...

  
  


Chapter Nineteen!

  
  


The pages' wing was buzzing, their extensive grapevine loaded with the juiciest, choicest morsels of rumour from the exciting events of the last few days. The Lady Knight and the King had quarrelled again! She wouldn't accept him as King! She was leaving Court! She was leaving Tortall! She had resigned her position as King's Champion...

Thom wasn't giving anything away to the many pages constantly pestering him for news, and for that determined reticence Kel admired him. She was desperate to know the truth, but respect for his strength and - almost awe - made her hold her tongue. She wasn't strong enough to hold back from questioning Neal, though. From his nose-for-news and father at the centre of the palace, she gleaned the bare facts. Still, though, she wished for flesh on the colourless bones of the story. Still she turned into the Yamani Lump at the mere sight of Thom - without the help of being a good Yamani, she would never have lived through that week.

She was tilting when she saw him. For the first time in anyone's memory the King himself had come to watch the pages training! She almost fell off Peachblossom at that terrifying sight, but calmed herself as a good Yamani should and took her next turn with a style at which she was almost surprised. She had hit squarely in the middle of the shield painted on the quintain! Blushing with pleasure, at her triumph as much as at the distinguished man who had witnessed it, she returned to the queue to wonder at why - why - why the King was watching them.

She looked over at Prince Roald, waiting in the queue to practise on the third-year quintain. He shrugged at her, knowing what she had to be asking. Not even the Heir had any clue to the uncharacteristic behaviour of his father. Eyes wandering over the four queues of the assembled pages, Kel saw that Thom - Thom had coloured slightly. Kel's eyes widened. He must know something! She wanted, craved, needed to pump him. Her resolve waned... but she rode it. No. No. No. If Thom wanted to tell her, he would tell her. Otherwise, she'd be strong. She could be a Yamani forever if she needed to. However she had to pay, she could do it. Forever. Stone. Stone. Stone. Not curious. No wishes. No feelings about it. Stone. This is what I will strive to be...

The lesson ended at last and they rode back, towards the stables. As Kel neared the block, Thom rode up to her on his black gelding. She looked at him in some surprise and he began to whisper.

"Look, thanks for not asking me anything. But Ma told me to tell you if I needed to. She left because the King doesn't like me being friendly with you. She was so angry! She told me that I should do whatever I wanted to and to Mithros with the consequences. But the King came to watch the training today. I think he's tightening his watch. I think you need to know, so that you can decide what to do. I have no right to keep you in the dark - it's your fight more than mine. What do you think?"

"I think... I agree with your mother. What right has he to stop any page being friends with any other? What harm could it do, anyway?"

"I have the Gift, Kel. Ma said that he said that people might say that I was witching you for her."

"Gods help me! People! Gossiping, lying old women! Why can't they keep their noses in their own stinking business? What's it to do with anyone whether you might do this, or I might do that - if they must nose, can't they nose in what's happened, not what might happen to someone, in some realm, at some time? Mithros, why can't they find something else to do with themselves? Gods, I thought they were friends! I always heard that he knew she was a girl! If the Lioness doesn't mind, why should he... why... should... oh, Thom - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude about your mother - "

"No - no," he said politely and, surprisingly, quite sincerely. They rode back to the palace in a companionable silence.

Neal, when the two confided in him, agreed with them. He too supported Kel's ambition, and woe betide anyone who got in the way! Even the spectre of the King himself that overshadowed their world and friendships melted into no threat before Neal's optimistic confidence. But he was abstracted, and they knew he hadn't really listnened or thought; because his optimism was unthinking, his confidence mechanical, his impudent humour merely automatic and a shadow of his cocky first year. And his friends were beginning to worry.

The pages' work went on as usual for the next few weeks. The thinking arts seemed a little harder, the fighting arts a little easier - until Lord Wyldon, in his infinite wisdom, began to change their work around. First, he replaced half of second-year tilting with a new study of wrestling, then he changed the ordinary syllabus of sword fighting so that the third- and fourth-years were learning the use of the sword on horseback. Well, they were meant to be learning it! The exercise, though, was crowned with remarkably little success. Although it was not, in fact, particularly remarkable given the low standard of horsemanship in the third year! Only Joren of Stone Mountain consistently triumphed, and that was due less to personal skill than to carelessness on the parts of his opponents. Indeed, Vinson of Genlith was careless enough to wave his sword blindly about and gouge a deep gash across his stallion Nero's back. Kel winced at the thought of what Peachblossom would do to her if she ever made such a mistake...

It was on the way back to the palace after their hour of sword-fighting (on foot, which was lucky for Neal, clumsier since Midwinter, who would have come off even worse than Vinson on horseback!) that Kel got her first inkling of what was wrong with her best friend. He had been more than a little odd for some weeks now - ever since Midwinter, really - but had shut up like a clam if anyone so much as mentioned it. But today, he and Kel were talking and laughing almost as if it were the old days... until Neal stopped in his tracks. He literally changed colour, the blood draining from his face, turning it white. Horribly, frighteningly pale, white as salt and blotched with puce. Kel stared at him with terrible concern.

"Neal! What's the matter!" she cried. He shook his head, eyes still fixed on the stable block to the right. Kel looked in the same direction, hoping to find some clue as to what had disturbed Neal so much, but saw nothing and nobody - except the Wildmage. Was it Daine who was the hint for which she had been searching? Perhaps he was still in love with her? Perhaps he was embarrassed by the babe she carried? Or did he wish that that child were his?

She turned back to Neal, her thoughts in a whirl. One thing stood out, the one thing that she knew she must not, could not do. She couldn't say anything to Neal until he brought the subject up. That time, so close, such a short time ago, when they had fallen out was still raw in her memory - and, she knew, even more so in his. She just could not risk their friendship again.

Daine had seen Neal at the same time, and she knew that he would be upset. She told herself again and again that she couldn't have kept out of his way forever! She felt so guilty, although that was even more unfair of herself. His crush was none of her fault, she knew - but still, obstinate in her despair for the stubborn boy, once such a close friend, she blamed herself for Neal's pain. 

Numair couldn't console his wife when she began to do that. He knew that she felt nothing but pity for Neal, yet - as any new husband might - he couldn't stifle a feeling that might have been jealousy. Oh, he knew what Daine's feelings were! Intellectually, he understood the whole position. Yet the heart of an ardent lover that beat within his breast would not - could not understand. He tried to accept - even thought sometimes that he had succeeded - that he and Daine both were the victims, as much as Neal himself, of Neal's hopeless infatuation. It was true, that his mind knew with more certainty than anything but the love and passion between Daine and himself. Yet that it was true was impossible for his heart to understand. 

Neal too was miserable with his hopeless love. But he relished his misery, almost rejoiced in woe as proof of his undying love, revelled in his sadness as part of the luxury of a hopeless passion. There was no such miserable satisfaction for Master and Mistress Salmalín. For them, Neal's yearning was a wedge, dividing them, driving them further and further apart in their misery and pity, for him and for themselves. They could see no way out.


End file.
